


It Makes Perfect Sense.

by Ditsyjo



Category: White Collar
Genre: I'm never very nice to characters.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 55,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6696823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ditsyjo/pseuds/Ditsyjo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't make any sense that a math teacher and electrician turn art thieves... It doesn't make any sense that they will change Neal's life forever... until it makes perfect sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. it doesn't make sense.

Neal regarded Peter with a look that declared he didn’t buy for a second that his friend actually believed what he just said…  
“You can’t tell me this makes any sense to you.” He argued  
“It doesn’t have to make perfect sense…” Peter sounded annoyed “they did it… that’s really all that matters. They stole the painting. We caught them. We have all the evidence to put them away… It doesn’t all have to wrap up in a neat little bow every time.”  
“But Peter…” Neal rolled his eyes at the absurdity of what he was about to say “you have to think this through” Now the older man rolled his eyes “It just doesn’t make any sense at all… not even a little bit…a respectable high school math teacher and his wife… an electrician, suddenly decide to steal a five million dollar painting… A math teacher and an electrician, Peter!”  
“Admittedly that is a little strange, but there is no question they did it”  
“I’m not denying that… it’s the why that’s bothering me.”  
“Why don’t we go ask them?” He looked up at the younger man and was rewarded with a grin before Neal spun toward the door “Wait just one minute … I have to deliver this paper work first” Peter called after him, but he was already down the hall, curiosity driving him…  
He stepped in the interview room containing the couple with only a wave at Diana as he passed her. She rolled her eyes and turned on the audio feed…in case Caffrey started to cross lines… she could intervene.  
He sat down in the chair across from the blonde hair, brown eyed math teacher…leaning back he propped his feet naturally on the table studying the other man…only a couple of years older than Neal he wore a pale blue collared t-shirt and a darker blue pull over sweater vest… he wiped his palm repeatedly on his khaki pants. He shifted and shifted again… the guy was incredibly nervous… not a professor Moriarty then…   
If Mr. Bryant was nervous… Mrs. Bryant was petrified… visibly shaking… tears lingered in her bright green eyes, occasionally escaping and sliding down pale cheeks. Her long straight hair escaped wildly from what Neal was sure had once been a neat French braid, tendrils of light blonde hair fluttering around her face…   
Dark circles under two sets of puffy red eyes… watching him… waiting fearfully for the hammer to drop.  
“I have tried…I really have, but I just can’t understand why…? Why two respectable people suddenly decide they are going to steal a multi-million dollar painting. It’s not a career change most people would try…”he started to flash a bright smile, but Mrs. Bryant sobbed uncontrollably. He flinched slightly, he wasn’t trying to be cruel…   
“Please you’ve got to help us!” she suddenly burst out.  
“KIM!” her husband exclaimed his voice dropping to a whisper “No police remember” he hissed  
“We’ve got to do something!!!” she whimpered “We can’t get the money now!”  
“Well then it’s a good thing I’m not police” Neal grinned a bit.  
“Pretty sure FBI counts too” the man wavered  
“Not FBI either… just a consultant” he gave them his most reassuring smile “So why don’t you consult me on your problem”  
*************************   
“I thought I told you to wait” Peter muttered as he caught sight of his consultant in the interview room sitting at the table across for the couple “D*** it Neal, you never listen. If you blow this case…” he scowled deeply. He stepped quickly to the entrance, hoping to intervene before things got out of hand.  
Pushing open the door he hesitated, something was wrong… He could feel it in the atmosphere… an undeniable tension that radiated from the man and woman in cuffs… and from his young CI.  
“Is there a problem here?” he asked afraid he didn’t want to know the answer. Neal surged suddenly to his feet. Face deathly pale… lips a thin colorless line… he practically ran for the door, pushing past Peter, the look in his eyes sheer horror.  
“Tell him” he paused in the doorway long enough to glance at the couple desperately “Trust him” with that he fled the room.  
“Neal!?” Peter called after his friend, but he didn’t stop… didn’t look back. Spinning to the teacher and his wife “What happened?” he demanded. Mrs. Bryant timidly pushed a picture toward Peter… sniffling softly.  
“This is our son, Nathen… he’s seven…” Peter looked down curiously. The little boy staring up at him from the traditional school portrait had curly brown hair and bright blue eyes… he swallowed tightly… the kid bore a striking resemblance to… the woman went on “he was taken four days ago”  
“Kidnapped?”  
“Yes…”  
“They contacted you with a ransom demand?” she nodded.  
“Three million dollars” her husband barely whispered. Peter shuddered. That was ridiculous… these people didn’t have that kind of money…  
“Why so much?”  
“I don’t… don’t know” the woman sobbed…  
“He said…” Mr. Bryant looked at Peter pleadingly “he said Nick Halden would have it”  
“Nick Halden?” He studied the man before him… “The kidnapper said that specifically?”  
“Yes, but you have to understand we never met the man”  
“I believe that…” he glanced over his shoulder… at the direction of his friend’s panicked retreat. “Why him?”   
“I don’t know… we never met him… not even when he signed the adoption papers.”


	2. not afraid

Neal stumbled from the interview room… limbs trembling violently… he tried reflexively to cover the emotions that tore through his mind, his heart... but it was no use. They were a raging inferno consuming his control, his mind, his soul, leaving him to stagger in a blind haze… he made it as far as the first step before his legs collapsed… he sank down… sitting on that top step…staring out at the room below… the buzzing hive of activity that had no idea his world had just imploded…. Oblivious to all the air being sucked from the room… “I’m a dad… I’m a dad… I’m A DAD!!!” it screamed in his head… roaring… “I’m a dad and the KID IS MISSING!!!!” he choked… gagged… tried to rise… he fell back gasping… “You have to stop… breathe slowly” an annoying voice in his head told him “you’re going to pass out”, but panic made that impossible… he couldn’t get enough air… he was drowning in stark terror… in the cold emptiness of his mind…  
“Neal!” the voice in his ear registered vaguely… “Neal … breathe” a hand on his shoulder… Peter… he tried to control his lungs, but they felt frozen… someone brought his hands up to cover his face, cupping them over his mouth and nose…in and out … in and out…in and out… better… Slowly the world slid back into focus… “You ok?” his friend asked, his tone far to gentle… the young man nodded… if he tried to speak he was certain he would be sick… and he would never live that down… hyperventilating on the stairs was bad enough…  
“Sorry…” he managed after a moment.  
“It’s ok” Peter grinned ruefully “I’m going to guess you didn’t know about this…” he shook his head “not even about the boy?”  
“No…G** no…!” his chest constricted again…  
“Ok… ok… breathe… it will be ok… just breathe… slowly” that seemed like all Peter could think of to say…  
“You think…” Neal swallowed the sick feeling that surged in his stomach “you think if I knew I had a son …I would abandon him?” Peter gave an almost laugh  
“No, probably not…” he patted his shoulder softly again “but adoption isn’t abandoning… given your circumstances seven years ago… it probably was the best thing for him” Neal nodded. That was true, rationally considered, it was true …though he doubted he would have been able to agree to it…  
“I… I didn’t know…” his voice betrayed him… cracking sharply… the taste of bile rising in the back of his throat with the words… he gulped convulsively…. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly again. Peter waited, watching him… he could feel the man watching him…   
“Ok…Neal…I have to ask…” he hesitated… “Do you know who his birth mother is?” Neal stared at him… he hadn’t considered that, but there was only one possibility… only one who fit the time frame… suddenly he was shivering again… the boy must have been born when they were separated… she must have been pregnant when he left for Europe…she might have even known before he left… she never told him… why didn’t she tell him…? Retching, he staggered to his feet and fled again… running this time, he made it down the stairs and into the elevator.  
***************************   
Peter watched the younger man disappear… he thought about following him, but maybe he just needed to be alone to get his thoughts together. Finding out you had a seven year old child would be quite a blow to anyone… finding out that child had been kidnapped… he couldn’t even imagine.   
“Peter?” Jones’ voice broke through his reverie… “What’s going on with Caffrey… he just blew past me like a whirlwind.”  
“I’m not surprised.” He sighed… “It’s going to be an interesting day…”  
“It have something to do with the arrest you two made this morning? Definitely something off with that story… a math teacher and an electrician suddenly decide they are thieves…?”  
“Yeah…” he scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair “Jones… get missing persons up here.”   
“On it Boss.” he gave him a questioning look “I’m going to want to hear this story later, aren’t I?” he grinned as hurried away with one last look in the direction Neal vanished.  
“I hope so…”he scrubbed his hand over his face roughly… he slowly made his way back to the interrogation room.  
Diana stopped him just outside… her eyes wide…  
“What is going on boss?”  
“You were listening, right?”  
“Caffrey’s freaking out?”  
“That’s one way of putting it.”  
“Did you know about the kid, boss?”  
“Neal didn’t even know about him.”  
“They said he signed the papers…”her voice trailed off. “D***”   
“You said it”  
“You think the kid is really his?”   
“I don’t know… I need you to pull the original birth certificate… but we won’t know for sure until we find the boy and get a DNA test…”  
“But do you think he is?”  
“He sure looks like Neal” he handed her the photograph… and smiled at her whistle.   
************************   
“Thought I’d find you here” he smiled as he sat down beside the younger man… the CI sat on a park bench, staring at his clasped hands… oblivious of the swirling colors of the sunset behind the statue of the violinist, the people strolling past or the bird song floating in the twilight… There was some color back in his cheeks at least and his breathing was quiet… though his hands still shook slightly… his body shivering occasionally in the cool evening breeze  
“You found me…” Neal glanced up, then returned to studying his hands  
“Always…” the grin was forced, but he thought it was worth a shot.  
“What took so long?” Neal managed a hint of teasing… a good sign  
“I thought you might need a little time…”  
“Thanks” he gave a pained little laugh. They fell into a companionable silence “She loved this place…” the way his voice caught barely noticeable  
“I know…” Peter watched him “you come here a lot”  
“You’ve noticed that huh?”  
“I still keep an eye on where you are.”  
“Good to know…” he sighed, they sat silently in the waning light “do you think he’s ok?” the question wavered just a tiny bit.  
“I think so… I hope so” Peter said. Neal nodded quietly “The kidnapper gave them a week to get the money… three days ago.”  
“So we still have a little time…?” his voice broke  
“We still have a little time.”  
“He’s only seven…he’s got to be so scared…”  
“I don’t doubt it” Peter regarded the other man, “but he’ll hold up.”  
“I hope so”  
“If he’s anything like you he’s more resilient than most”   
“I don’t have three million dollars…” he sighed looking at the statue “anymore” clearly thinking about the ring he gave up for his friend…  
“We’ll find him and bring him home safely”  
“How can you be sure?”  
“Because if he’s your son…” he smiled “there is one thing I am really good at… finding a Caffrey” Neal managed a chuckle at that.  
“Then we better get started” the younger man stood up. If his legs still trembled a little he was able to hide it now.   
*************************  
He jerked awake… the dream of rough hands grabbing… pulling him, fading away…  
Dark… still dark…  
He wasn’t afraid of the dark… only babies were afraid of the dark, and he wasn’t a baby… he was seven and a half years old… almost eight… He was not afraid of the dark. He shivered, but that wasn’t fear… it was just so cold in here and they didn’t give him a blanket. Nathen sat up curling into the corner of the wall…pulling his skinny legs into his chest. He wasn’t scared… he tucked is arms around himself trying to stop shaking… Cold … yeah that’s what he was… and lonely and bored… he had no idea how long he had been here… the dark seemed to last forever… amplifying every sound. His breathing echoed. He didn’t even know breathing could echo… and the sound his shoes made on the hard floor was loud… unnaturally loud, but he wasn’t scared, but he did want his mama… daddy… someone… he didn’t like being alone.  
The man said he was here because they wanted to hurt his daddy. Nate didn’t understand why. His daddy was nice man… sure sometimes he made him stand in the corner… or sit on his bed, but his daddy never made him sit in the dark forever like this… unless they meant his other dad… the one he never met… maybe the man meant him, but the man was just mean, his arms still hurt were the man grabbed them…his face hurt too, because the man hit him… and he wanted to hurt his daddy… he shivered harder. He didn’t want them to do that… not to either daddy…  
The dark was bigger and blacker than anything he had ever seen…he couldn’t even see his hands… tears leaked out of his eyes and he tried to brush them away, because big boys didn’t cry if they weren’t hurt … they weren’t afraid of the dark…  
Except he was… he was really, really afraid… he hid his face against his knees and cried


	3. quiet implosion

“Neal go home,” The dark head spun to face him… frozen mid pace, shock and betrayal in his eyes.  
“You’re cutting me out?” Panic flared in his eyes… caused his voice to crack.  
“No…” he shook his head “No, I meant it’s after midnight… It’s been a h*** of a day… you’re tired… I’m tired…we’ve gone over what we know a thousand different ways. And our fourth pot of coffee is gone.”  
“We can’t stop… we have to find him.”  
“Neal, you aren’t going to do Nathen any good if you collapse” he watched his friend resume wearing a path in his living room rug. The rigid posture of his shoulders belied the defeat he tried to hide in his blue eyes… “Come on …I’ll get my coat and drive you home.” A wordless nod admitted surrender.  
“We aren’t giving up are we?” the voice was so small.  
“Of course not.” Peter stared at the younger man “we are talking about a missing child… your child! One of our own…” he hesitated, some people might not agree with that last part but… “We are absolutely not giving up! We are, however, taking you home and starting again in the morning.” He patted his friend on the shoulder, subtly shepherding the exhausted man toward the car.  
“Early?”  
“Early… I’ll pick you up at 6:30”  
“6:00”  
“Ok 6:00” he sighed “Are you sure you are ok working on this?”  
“I have to be…” he ran his hand through his hair “I can’t sit it out...please.”  
“I know.” Peter pointed to the car door “get in.”  
*****************************   
He really was tired… more than tired, drained… physically, mentally and emotionally drained. Neal couldn’t remember ever feeling so worn down… even the day Kate died hadn’t wrung him out quite this much. That was a bit of a shock to him actually… he hadn’t thought a more difficult day was possible, but here he was dragging himself up the stairs to his apartment with all the energy of an inebriated sloth… his vision reduced to the narrow tunnel required for his feet to find his next step. The image of the little boy with big blue eyes hovered in his mind forcing him to fight the hot tears that burned his eyes. His hand trembled again as he struggled to turn the key in the lock…  
Neal was nearly to the bed before his reeling mind registered he wasn’t alone. He blinked, trying to focus on the figure reclined on his couch snoring softly. He sat on the bed and fumbled with his shoe laces… no need to wake the small man, he thought, better to just try to rest …  
“You are late”  
“Hey Moz…” he sighed deeply  
“Do you know what time it is?” Mozzie slid his glasses back onto his nose and peered at his watch. “It is one am…”  
“I’m sorry I didn’t know I had a curfew.”  
“I thought this was supposed to be an in and out… buy the painting and the suits rush in and take over… home by five sort of day.”  
“Something came up”  
“Obviously” he regarded his friend a moment “hence you staggering home at one am ready to collapse… are you hurt?’  
“No” he ran a shaky hand through his hair… grasping the dark waves and pulling wearily… “Did you know?” He didn’t mean to say it out loud but there was no going back now… not with his friend staring at him like he’d lost his mind “did you know she was pregnant?” his voice came out a quivering whisper.  
“Who?” Mozzie’s head came up   
“KATE! Did you know she had a son!” he really didn’t mean to yell. Neal flinched… his friend looked like he had been struck. ‘sorry…”he mumbled “I’m sorry” silence fell… and Neal turned his attention back to his shoes, but his hands were shaking harder…so violently he simply knotted the laces.   
“This son…” Mozzie began hesitantly “that I did not know she was expecting… he’s yours I assume.” An exhausted nod. “Do you know the location of this child?” tears… Mozzie was definitely not expecting tears. He awkwardly patted his shoulder “How can I help mon frère?”  
“Do you have three million dollars?”  
*************************  
He slipped his feet into his shoes… quietly… cautiously... and opened his front door.   
Eight am…five hours until the ransom exchange… five hours to get his team ready. He shot one last glance at his couch… at the man curled up sleeping there, briefly considered waking him… No, he’ll let him sleep, he knows he didn’t collapse there until almost six, that he hadn’t slept more than an hour or two at a time the last three days…despite their best efforts there was no trace of the child or his captors. Then last night... this morning at two am Neal got the call… the man knew to call Neal… that worried Peter…   
Worried him almost as much as the frantic man pounding on his door at 2:30 in the morning had… in his pajamas… barefoot…no coat… shivering in the early morning chill his hair standing out at odd angles… not as if he had just woke up, but rather as though he had spent the night tossing and turning… pulling his fingers though it. There were tears in his terrified eyes… though he didn’t let them fall. Neal burst into his living room a torrent of nervous energy… pacing erratically…sitting down, his knee bouncing frantically before he surged to his feet again…  
“This is about me!” he repeated over and over “whoever this is wants to hurt me…! They’re going to-!”   
“Ok…any ideas who it might be?” Peter tried to calm him by logical thought. He shook his head running both hands over his face and through his dark hair… grasping his hair and tugging as if that might make the name come to mind…  
“I know his voice. I know I do, but I can’t place it… I can’t think of it… I can’t think… my son is going to …to…” he dropped onto the couch then wrapping his arms around his waist…. “They aren’t after the ransom Peter…”  
“What makes you say that?” he shrugged helplessly “They called and demanded it…”  
“I just know…The way he said it…the way he growled my name…There was so much hate! I’ve never heard hate like that! What am I going to do?” he shuttered violently “They are going to …he’s going to k-kill Nathen because I can’t think!”  
“Calm down…” Peter watched him warily… he had never seen the younger man like this   
“I lost her… I lost his mother… I can’t let them…”He was pacing again “I have to save him…”  
“Neal… when’s the last time you ate… anything…slept?” His friend shrugged… he shook his head and led the kid into the kitchen and made a sandwich while Neal prowled the room.   
“What are you doing? We need to think… we need to….”  
“You need to sit down and eat this.” he pressed the plate into Neal’s hands… and poured a glass of milk…   
“Peter!”  
“We don’t have one decent lead… not one Neal. We do have a time and a place for the exchange…they aren’t going to hurt him until they get the money… We will follow them back to Nathen. There is nothing more we can do right now.” The younger man nodded, calming a bit…mechanically eating the sandwich…  
“I’m just worried… I have to get him home safely…”  
“We will… we’ll think of something…”  
Now he stared at the sleeping man for a long moment…let him sleep… he needed to be as rested and collected as he could be by noon. Peter slipped out the door, his phone out calling his team… he could get everything set up before Neal came in. He just hoped the kid didn’t do something stupid…  
**********************   
His phone buzzed startling him awake. He stared at the text a moment, forcing his fuzzy blue eyes to focus on the message… a tiny smile tugged at his exhausted features… finally a real lead. He staggered to his feet, suddenly aware of the condition of his appearance… a few minutes to change and then he would just pop by the address Mozzie sent him… just to check things out… to see if there was anything to the rumor… he glanced at his watch, 9:12. It wouldn’t take long and he could still be at the office to get ready for the exchange by noon…  
If there was anything there… he could tell Peter and the team could hit the place, and rescue Nathen …while he placed three million dollars under the bridge in the park…


	4. sneaking in.

Neal shivered as the cold wind blew through his hair, stinging his cheeks… a fine mist of snow floated in the air. He pulled his coat closer. Standing outside the old building he knew it was right… the perfect place to hold a child. The office complex was all but abandoned, five or ten of the hundreds of suites were currently occupied, if the faded sign near the door and the nearly empty parking structure could be believed, the snow on the walks haphazardly removed… the hedges showing mediocre care…  
All those empty floors, the long dim hallways… he shuddered, there really was no way an FBI team would be able to search them all before the kidnappers noticed them and … and maybe… he shivered again. If he wanted them to stand a chance of finding Nathen… of saving the little boy, he needed to get inside and get a much better idea where they were holding him…Neal looked at his watch 10:16… he had time…  
Getting in wasn’t that hard really, security was definitely lax. He saw no one, as he rewired the door. When he stepped inside the hall was dim, just as he expected it to be… lit by flickering florescent bulbs… several had burnt out entirely, as he worked his way up the long corridor… looking for something, anything that would suggest a child had been kept in the building. There were a few cameras… he avoided them as naturally as breathing. Moving quickly he watched for anyone that might be a threat. He caught a glimpse of one bored receptionist at the end of a long hallway. He ducked out of her line of sight quickly.  
***********************************   
Peter considered swearing, decided to pace instead. He stared at the papers in front of him…Nathen Bryant’s original birth certificate and a pile of adoption papers. The names were there in black and white, all over the pages… Kate Moreou… and Nick Halden, signature after signature… Neal would have a hard time convincing anyone he didn’t know, that he was unaware of the adoption except… he stopped and considered the signatures…Kate’s varied slightly from line to line, but Nick Halden was signed exactly the same over and over… she forged his signature and in four years of prison visits she never mentioned their child… why not? Of course he would never know now…Neal would never know… he sighed.  
Maybe he could still get some information he suddenly realized… He strode out of the office down to the holding cell   
“Mrs. Bryant you said you never met Nathen’s biological father… what about his mother? Did you ever meet her?”  
“Well yes… of course, but I don’t see how that will help bring my baby home.”   
“This kidnapper is not targeting you and your husband Mrs. Bryant… he’s targeting Nathen’s birth parents… the more I know about them the better.”  
“Oh…of course…” the woman’s face creased in concentration “She was a beautiful girl always seemed so sad… those eyes… beautiful eyes that seemed to fill her whole face…”  
“I see…”  
“She said Nathen’s birthfather didn’t want kids…or at least wasn’t ready…”  
“Did she say anything more about him?”  
“Just that he would only stay with her if she gave up the baby…” Peter considered that bit of information… seven and a half years ago Neal might not have been ready to be a father, heaven knows his lifestyle at the time wasn’t conducive to raising a child, but … he resisted the urge to shake his head in disbelief  
“So he didn’t want the baby?”  
“Apparently not” she sighed “although…”   
“Although?”  
“Something about the way she said it…it just seemed off… I never could put my finger on it…but…”she shook her head.   
“But you didn’t quite buy her story…”  
“I didn’t… not quite.” She hesitated “Don’t get me wrong she is a nice girl… she requested an open adoption not only for herself, but for the father as well.”  
“Did she come to visit Nathen?”  
“She did… twice a year…on his birthday and just before Christmas…every year…until…she came to Nathen’s sixth birthday… we haven’t seen her since… that was over a year and a half ago.”  
“I see” he sighed… and stood up “thank you Mrs. Bryant”  
“You will find my boy… right, Agent Burke?”  
“I’m doing my best.”  
As soon as he stepped out of the room Diana met him her face tight…  
“Boss…at 10:42 we lost the signal to Caffrey’s tracker.”  
“He cut it?”  
“I don’t think so… it just dropped offline… like something is blocking the signal”   
**************************************   
Long agonizing minutes slipped by while Neal wandered aimlessly through the empty labyrinth of faded linoleum and worn carpets. Then he saw it, a sign Document Storage Facility…he should have thought of that. Every older office complex had one, a room or rooms… windowless… separately ventilated, temperature controlled, radiation shielded, fire safe rooms intended to preserve a company’s important files from every imaginable threat, a place this big in its prime no doubt needed, two or three of them… now… he doubted even one was in use…   
He studied the door for a long moment before he stepped through. Stairs lead to the basement. Nathen was definitely down here…Neal was certain of it. He should call Peter and get out of here. He glanced at his phone, no signal… he would have to go back outside to call… and suddenly he couldn’t leave his son in this place one minute longer than he had to. Neal tiptoed down the stairs, every nerve on alert for any potential threats… not a sound came from below… not a single sound drifted down from above either…  
It was colder in the basement… cold enough to raise goose bumps on his arms under his coat. He stopped at the first door… glancing in… this was not the storage room… a security camera monitoring room... he stepped past quietly… one guard appeared to be dozing… the other lost in a magazine… to busy drooling over Miss February to notice him slipping carefully down the hall…  
He found the room… fifth door on the right…the first door he found that was locked. A bolt and pad lock had been added, the thick steel door prevented any sound from escaping the room…   
Fifty –five seconds to unlock both doors, pretty good considering how his fingers trembled…he nearly dropped his picks twice… he pushed the door open slowly, his breath caught in his throat. He prayed what he found on the other side wouldn’t break his heart…  
It did…


	5. Escape

Stepping though the door plunged Neal into almost total darkness…he threw the door as wide as possible to let in the light as his eyes fell on a small huddled form sobbing in the corner. The child was pale and dirty… a few water bottles littered the floor, but no sign of food. Nathen shivered convulsively, his legs pulled as tight into his chest as possible, his arms thrown protectively over his head. Neal rushed forward in relief.  
“Nate!” The little boy scrambled away from him in terror, trembling violently. Neal froze…taking in the pale face, the bruise on the little cheek, and the expression of absolute horror on the child’s face. His vision turned blood red even as his heart shattered… they hurt his son!   
“Shhh… I’m not going to hurt you”  
“Don’t believe you” the child spat   
“I promise I’m not here to hurt you…” he held his hands out soothingly “I’m… I’m…” he stopped unsure how to identify himself to the boy… “I’m with the FBI… I’m here to get you out of here.” Nate looked up at him then, huge blue eyes blinking against the blinding light from the door  
“Really?” it was a tiny broken thing, but the hope in that boy’s voice was the most beautiful sound he ever heard.   
“Really.” he smiled gently “Are you hurt? Can you stand up?” Nathen nodded and scrambled up, keeping his back pressed to the wall and his arms wrapped defensively around his waist. “Good… I’m going to check the hallway… if it’s clear we are going to leave, ok?”   
“Ok” the little guy whispered.  
“Don’t be afraid Nate… is it ok if I call you Nate?” another small nod  
“Mama calls me that”   
“Alright stay right here … don’t move and I’ll signal if it’s clear”  
Neal moved away from him and peeked out the door. Seeing no one, he motioned Nate to join him… he took the little boy’s hand and stepped out into the hallway. Stealthy movements brought them to the security room… the first sign they were in trouble … the room was empty. Neal gulped, but continued to lead Nate toward the stairs…  
“STOP RIGHT THERE!” Neal risked a glance over his shoulder at the voice, pushing the small boy in front of him… the door of the stair well only ten feet ahead… running now, Neal heard the shots… the whistle of more than one near miss… something burned along his arm as he kept his larger form between Nate and the guns…there was no time for relief when the stair well door crashed shut behind them. Up… he steered the child up the steps, then as the door below slammed open, he scooped his son up and took the two and three at a time, scrambling upward! More shots echoed endlessly in the stairwell, ricocheting off the concrete walls…he stumbled on to the landing, careening into the door at full speed... nearly falling through when it opened.  
The hallway stretched before him straight and endless…like a nightmare…he could never reach the next turn before the gunmen took him down. The third door on the right was unlocked… he slammed it behind them and, setting Nathen on his feet, Neal shoved a broken filing cabinet against it, then an ancient desk. That should keep them out for a minute… “breathe” he reminded himself before he took stock rapidly… he needed a plan… no exits… no way out… his eyes traveled anxiously over Nathen… panic hit his gut when he saw blood on the child’s side… “They shot him!!!NO!” the thought rattled through his mind like a runaway freight train. Choking on his fear he rushed to the little boy, sliding across the worn carpet on his knees, turning him desperately … searching for a hole in the dirty t-shirt, pushing the shirt up to look for a wound…  
“You’re bleeding…” the little guy pointed to Neal’s arm… the sigh that shuddered through the man’s frame was absolute relief. Nate wasn’t injured… he glanced at the tear in his own sleeve… the gash underneath had bled on the boy. Assured neither of them was seriously hurt Neal looked around the room. There wasn’t much in the dilapidated office…nothing to provide a sufficient hiding place. He looked at the windows… set high in the wall, they were too small for man to squeeze through, but… Nathen just might fit… The door rattled as the men outside slammed into it   
“Nate…” he swallowed, hating what he was about to ask the child to do “Nate, buddy I need you to be really brave for me. Do you think you can do that?”  
“Can I go home to mama after?”  
“Nate, I promise if this works you will see your mama very soon.” the door rattled again… cracking open an inch or two.  
“Ok…” the little voice cracked with fear, but the bright blue eyes were determined.  
“Ok” Neal took a breath “I’m going to boost you up through that window…when you get outside I want you to run…as fast as you can.”  
“Are you coming with me?”  
“I can’t” he glanced at the door… shuddering on its hinges. “I won’t fit.”  
“But-”  
“I’ll be ok… just take this” he pressed his consultants ID in to the boy’s hand “Two blocks over that way” he pointed to his right “ is bigger street, go there and catch a cab… tell them you want to go to the FBI office.. When you get there find Agent Peter Burke… he’ll take care of you…Ok” another anxious glance at the door… “It’ll be ok…you can do this” he took the ID from Nathen’s hand and slipped it, along with twenty dollars into the boy’s pocket “let’s go”  
It only took a few seconds to boost the child to the window and Neal sighed with relief as Nathen disappeared…  
“I’m ok…” the little voice drifted back to him  
“Good, now run!” he whispered urgently.  
Squaring his shoulders Neal turned back to face the door… waiting. It was just a matter of time…  
*************************   
Nathen waved wildly to flag the cab… shivering so hard his teeth hurt from chattering…his t-shirt and jeans were not nearly enough protection from the cold air. He wondered what the mean men did with his coat… and his back pack. He grinned brightly when the cab slowed to a stop and scrambled in with relief.  
“Hey little guy. You all alone?” The cabbie eyed him curiously “where’s your mom… your dad?” Nathen thought of the nice man who pushed him out the window and wished he was here…  
“Can you take me to the FBI building?”  
“I can…” Nathen relaxed a little as the taxi pulled away from the curb, those bad men couldn’t hurt him now. “What’s a little man like you need with the FBI?” the boy slid his hand in his pocket, feeling the leather wallet in there…  
“I have to find Agent Peter…” he curled up into the warm seat then… half dozing the rest of the trip…  
“Here we are, Kiddo” the cabbie still looked curious  
“Thanks” Nathen climbed out quickly, pushing the money from his pocket at the man and stared at the building. How was he ever going to find one agent in this huge place? Inside the door he stopped the first man he saw.  
“I need to find agent Peter… do you know him?” the man shook his head and hurried on his way. Nathen grabbed another man and another and another. Desperately he pleaded “Do you know Agent Peter? He’s with the FBI”  
“Sorry son… I don’t”  
“Do you know who might know him?”  
“I’m not sure… I think there are probably several agent Peters…”  
“I need to find him… it’s really important!” he thought of his friend still trapped with the bad men, counting on him to send help… “Please! They’ll hurt him!”  
**************************************   
Peter clenched his fists and released them… clench and release… clench and release… waiting for his team to gear up had never felt so long. Not only did they have a missing child, now Neal’s tracker was offline too. That meant only one thing…  
“D*** it Neal… I should have known you were going to do something stupid.” He sighed “you always do when your heart gets ahead of your head…”  
“Boss” Diana poked her head in “We’re all set.”  
He nodded with relief and hurried to the elevator. He was almost through the lobby when he heard a child’s frantic voice cut through the room.   
“I HAVE TO FIND AGENT PETER! PLEASE!” Peter froze. He had to find Neal and Nathen but…  
“My name is Peter” he told the small boy. The kid spun to face him, blue eyes and tear streaked cheeks filled with desperate hope.   
“Agent Peter? From the FBI?”  
“Yes” he managed awkwardly… he really was bad with little kids, but it was a relief to see this little boy “and you’re Nathen right?”  
“Uh-huh…” the child nodded and quickly pressed the wallet he clutched into the man’s hand. Peter looked at it. It was like being punched in the gut… Neal’s ID…  
“Where did you get this?”  
“The nice man gave it to me and told me to find Agent Peter. He let me out of the dark” the words were tumbling out of his mouth now like water from a broken dam. “and we ran and they had guns… he blocked the door with a cabinet and then he was bleeding and he made me go out the window and you have to hurry cause they will HURT HIM!” his voice rose in terror, tears falling from bright blue eyes that were all too familiar in the pale little face.


	6. Rushing

He pressed his back to the wall and waited… waited for the door to slam open… waited to see who would step through…for the bullet that he knew was coming…   
The crash of the toppling filing cabinet echoed in the nearly empty room and Neal held his breath as a man stepped into the room…Johnny Richards… he remembered Richards… numbers guy… small time… always had a big smile… nice enough. Neal almost didn’t recognize him without the smile. The look of absolute hate in those eyes was as foreign to the face he remembered as ice to the Sahara, yet there it was… simmering in those gold brown eyes, a volcano ready to rain destruction on the man before them.  
“Where is the boy?”  
“What boy?” Neal tried for innocence, but Richards knew  
“You’re SON, Nick…” Richards glared “let’s be honest now”  
“I don’t have any children.” He eyed the gun in the man’s hands… the four large men behind him… four very large men with guns that resembled cannons to his eyes.  
“Then what are you doing here?”  
“The feds scooped me up, told me someone took a kid and demanded I come up with the three million dollar ransom… naturally I was curious.”   
“So you came snooping around… right…”  
“You kidnapped a child….!”  
“Your child…” Richards smiled now, but it made Neal’s blood run cold. That brutal icy curve of his lips did not in the slightest resemble the easy grin he remembered. “Don’t play dumb… you think I haven’t been watching from the moment you knew he was in danger…”  
“Why?”  
“I think you know the answer to that.”  
“I don’t…” he thought of his past association with the man…surely this couldn’t be about the twenty thousand dollars he talked Johnny into investing in a bogus company…that was virtually nothing.  
“You took something precious from me, I’m going to return the favor.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking-.” His voice cut off abruptly as Johnny hit him  
“I want you to know what you are before you die… you are a murderer Nick… and I’m your executioner…” Neal gulped nervously… as Richards stepped close to him. The next words were barely audible “and rest assured, I will find the boy and when I do… I will kill him too.”  
*****************************   
His mind was swirling… Nathen’s words rattling in his head…They had guns…he was bleeding… Peter needed to move… to go find his friend…he was bleeding… but he also needed some idea what he was going to find, how badly was the younger man hurt? Had he sent the boy out the window alone because he was physically unable to follow? If he had been shot… he could be dying, could already be…  
“He was bleeding, Nathen… Where? Could you see where he was hurt?” the little boy shook his head…  
“It was a lot of blood. It was dripping off his hand. It got on me when he picked me up” Peter saw it now, on the left side of the boy’s shirt… nearly dried, rust brown…he swallowed. This was actually good news, he told himself, running down his arm probably meant nothing vital was hit though he could be losing a dangerous amount of blood…  
“How much blood Nathen? Did he look weak? Pale? Was he…?” Peter stopped, realizing he was questioning a terrified seven year old like a suspect.  
“I don’t know. I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I was so scared and…” The child’s eyes were huge. He was shivering. He looked like he expected to be hit, tears filled those eyes, but somehow the little boy kept them from falling.  
“It’s ok, Nathen… It’s ok. Thank you.” He hesitated, uncertain… he needed to get to Neal, but he also needed to take care of the little boy. Nathen was visibly shaking, his eyes, bright blue eyes, all too familiar seemed to fill his whole face, his skin washed out with fear and exhaustion… he looked to thin and Peter couldn’t help looking at the livid bruise on his cheek… the bruises that peaked out from beneath his shirt sleeves, shirt sleeves in this weather. He glanced at the icy snow that misted in the freezing wind outside. The boy definitely needed to be checked out at the ER, but Peter couldn’t leave rescuing his reckless CI to the younger agents… he couldn’t leave Nathen with just anyone either, after all the kidnapper knew how to contact Neal… the implication of that had him watching his team with suspicion and he definitely didn’t like that feeling. He looked around…  
“Diana?” she was already stepping forward laying her hand gently on Nathen’s head.  
“I’ll take care of the boy, Boss”  
“Thank you”  
“Go get Caffrey before he gets himself hurt.”  
“Might be too late for that.”  
“What do you mean…?” he gulped. She hadn’t heard what Nathen said.  
“Nathen said he was bleeding when he left, that the men chasing them had guns.”  
“D***” she studied Peter for a second then “I’m sure he’ll be fine…” she tried for a smile…   
“Yeah…Diana… get Nathen checked out. Then take him to see his parents as soon as you can.”  
“On it.” She knelt beside the little boy as Peter turned to get his team moving again. He was nearly to his car when he heard running footsteps behind him. Turning back he caught a glimpse of the small form before skinny arms wrapped around his legs…   
“Nathen!” Diana’s voice echoed in the parking structure… Peter attempted to extradite himself from the strong grasp of the frightened child…  
“Nathen.” he said “I need you to let go.” He told the boy awkwardly. “I have to go help Neal”  
“But he told me to find agent Peter and stay with you” the kid choked out, still trying not to cry.  
“And…” Peter studied Nathen, trying to think what to say. He needed to be moving “and you did great Nathen, but now I’m telling you to stay with Diana.”  
“Diana?” he glanced back at that woman approaching them with a glare. The boy gulped.  
“Yes, with Diana… she’s going to take care of you…” Diana’s expression was a perfect mix of frustration and amusement as she neared the pair.  
“Sorry Boss…”she shook her head “I forgot whose son he is for a second… I took my eyes off him for a moment and he was gone.” She grabbed Nathen’s hand with a firm, gentle grasp… “I’ve got him now” Peter smiled faintly at her comment and nodded his thanks as he scrambled into his car. Looking back he saw the tears finally escape those hauntingly familiar blue eyes  
***************************   
This part of the basement was even more worn and dilapidated than the part he’d seen before. The carpet had been ripped up in places and the air was stale and smelled of mildew. Most of the bulbs were burned out and those that still gave light were weak and flickering. If Neal had to guess he’d say they were near the back of the building, it was cold down here or maybe he was just nervous…  
They shoved him into a nearly dark room. One of the goons pushed him firmly back against the wall and held him there with a grip of iron, the gash on his arm throbbed in protest… a trickle of blood seeped out again as it was crushed in the man’s hands.  
Richards stepped forward and Neal shuddered as the man waved the gun in his face.   
“Don’t move.”  
“Not planning on it while you have that.” A gesture and the thug let him go  
“Good… now strip.”  
“Pardon me?”  
“Jacket, shirt, pants, shoes off”  
“Are you crazy?” the manic glint in Richards’ eyes answered that question. Neal closed his eyes and gingerly did as he was told in a few seconds he stood in the cold room wearing just his undershirt, socks and underwear. He shivered... glanced at the tear in the skin of his arm, almost an inch deep and three or four inches long, definitely going to need stitches... it burned fiercely, but it wasn't going to kill him...   
Richards’s eyes darkened as they fell on the tracker…  
“What’s that?” Neal followed his gaze   
“Tracking anklet…”  
“That could be a problem.” And with that Richards spun away and stalked out of the room…  
A moment later he was back … wielding a baseball bat. Neal had one second to register his blind terror before the bat made contact with the tracker with a horrible crunch of plastic and bone. Then all other thoughts were lost in the agonizing pain that shot through his ankle and dropped him to his knees. Richards swung again and again…until the tracker fell away shattered… Neal lay on the floor… gasping.  
“Problem solved.”


	7. painful

Diana glanced in the review mirror, glanced at the little boy huddled in her back seat. He stared out the window silently, his knees drawn up to his chest, skinny arms wrapped around them. He was swimming in the FBI windbreaker, but at least he wasn’t shivering any more. The lost expression in those huge blue eyes tugged at her heart. The dark bruise on his cheek raised an irrational anger in her.  
“Hey Nathen” she spoke softly, afraid of startling him “How’re you doing back there?”  
“When can I see my mama?”  
“Soon…we need to let the doctors check you out first. Ok?” he nodded, she waited for him to say more, to cry for his mom or ask why they hurt him or something, but he was quiet…watching the traffic go by.  
“I know who he is…” she almost missed the soft statement…  
“Who Nathen? The man who hurt you?” the little boy shook his head as they turned into the garage.   
“The man who took me said he was a killer, but I don’t believe it. He was really nice.” Diana fought the urge to be sick, please don’t let this boy think the man that took him and hit him is nice, she thought.  
“Who?”  
“Neal…”  
“Oh”  
“He isn’t is he?” Nathen looked at her “A killer, I mean”  
“No he isn’t” she decided it was probably best not to get into the things Neal Caffrey actually was.  
“That’s good” Nathen murmured “cause I think he’s my birth dad.” Diana barely caught the words, but they brought her head up sharply.  
“What makes you say that?’  
“My other mom used to come see me… sometimes… until… she stopped” the little boy looked at her sadly. “She showed me a picture of my other dad… once… when I was five”  
“I see”  
“He looked a lot like Neal.” Diana nodded wordlessly. Nathen rested his chin on his knee studying her quietly  
“Do you know if he is?  
“I don’t know Nathen” she kept her tone reassuring, but Diana had to force herself to look into his eyes because there was no doubt in her mind… those eyes were exactly the same.  
******************   
Peter stood on the icy sidewalk and stared at the door… at the flaking tint on the glass… the worn keypad. They had guns… he was bleeding… The urge to just slam it open was almost overwhelming, but the property owners had promised that the manager would be on sight to let them in. He was bleeding… The icy wind that rustled the bare skeletal hedges bit into his face…tore through his coat. The temperature was definitely falling, just like his mood. Peter twitched impatiently while he waited for the building manager to arrive and unlock the door. Finally… the plump smiling elderly woman bustled up…  
“Never expected to have the FBI take an interest in this old place.” she grinned pleasantly “Not much here these days.” she tsked softly “neighborhood is headed down hill. Such a shame … used to be such a nice place…” She shuffled over the keypad “What was that code again? Used to be a beautiful building… the hedges all shaped and the windows shining… and the fountain bubbling… we were all so proud of it when it was built… Been managing it for my friends for almost forty years…”Peter bit his tongue… resisting the urge to snap at her to hurry up…as she chattered on about the heyday of her building and miss entered the code three times…  
“Ms. Evans… I’m sorry” he tried to keep his voice polite, but the words still clipped sharply “but we are in a hurry…”  
“Oh yes of course…”she smiled “ I assume men in your job are always in a bit of a hurry… not that I’ve had much experience with FBI agents…I’d have to say you are the first I’ve ever met…”  
“Ms. Evans… Please, one of my people is in your building… his life may be in danger… could you please just get the door open” He was bleeding…  
“Oh my… the poor man…” she looked up at him with a look of fascinated horror “there you are” she held the door for them. “Please let me know he’s ok” Peter darted inside without answering her, the team followed... In the corridor they separated…breaking into search pairs. Peter glanced at his watch… 11:34… almost an hour since the tracker went dark…Neal could be anywhere by now…could be… he swallowed that thought… forced his mind to focus on each door they opened…echoes of “FBI” and “Federal agents” floated through the halls…   
***************************   
He risked a look at his ankle as they pulled him upright. He couldn’t feel it at all now, probably a bad sign, Neal thought, but he was grateful all the same. Already purple and black, it was swelling to alarming proportions in just the few seconds they let him lay on the floor. The shape of it was… bizarre… that was the only way to describe it and his foot flopped at an odd angle as if it were barely attached. They seemed to expect him to walk on it, but when he tentatively rested the foot on the floor the pain was so excruciating he laughed…a choked gagging laugh that fell harshly from his lips…  
Rough hands kept him from collapsing, dragging him, half carrying him through the dark musky hallways… there were stairs… down… subbasement… water seeped from the walls down here…leaving dark greenish brown stains…the floor was ice cold... dirty… he would bet money the janitor hadn’t been down here in at least 10 years… it struck him funny that he noticed that, through the fog in his mind…Neal chuckled to himself…the hands that kept him up shook him roughly… obviously they didn’t get the joke… The thug growled “shut up”  
They tossed him on the damp, cold concrete floor…he lay there.... quietly pressing his cheek to dirty cement just breathing. His ankle throbbed distantly. He chanced another look and found himself trying not to gag… broken was not the word for that mess… he had a feeling there was nothing but bone meal inside the skin...  
Someone grabbed his foot…jerked harshly… a scream that he wasn’t sure came from his throat floated though Neal’s mind as a faint echo…he blacked out for a moment… when the world swam back into focus, he wished he had stayed in that oblivion. The cord bit into both ankles… his fingers just brushed the floor… he could see one of Richards’s big friends tying the rope around a pipe in the corner of the room…the man wore a twisted grin…as he gave the cord a sharp jerk causing Neal’s vision to distort and his breath to catch.  
Richards’s squatted in front of his face… his expression resembling a snarl more than a smile as he grasped Neal’s hair, stopping his slow swing abruptly. He could feel Johnny’s breath on his cheek as the man pulled him closer.  
“I want you to remember I’m going to find the boy and I’m going to kill him…just like this.”  
“Why? If this is… about that …twenty grand… I can pay you back” it was surprisingly difficult to talk while dangling upside down… by a shattered ankle, he thought vaguely.  
“Can you bring my daughter back, Nick? Can you erase her suffering?”  
“I didn’t hurt you’re…your daughter…I only met her… once… you were there…I never touched…her.”  
“YOU KILLED HER!!!” Richards screamed whirling away… he was back in an instant … so was the bat. It loomed enormous in Neal’s eyes. He couldn’t tear his gaze away.  
“I swear I didn-!” Neal’s panicked plea ended in a strangled cry as the bat struck his hip…  
**************************   
The rooms were starting blur together… Peter had lost track of how many doors they had opened, how many dusty office spaces they had checked…there was definitely something wrong with the heating in here. The chill in the air was starting to seep into his bones or maybe that was the worry. He should have expected Neal to do something stupid like this. The kid was terrified for Nathen… of course when he got a lead, he ran in without second thought… probably without a first thought, even knowing the kidnapper wanted to hurt him…  
“Uhh sir…” the Harvard recruit looked nervous… as if he didn’t know how his tightly wound boss would react to his news  
“What did you find?”  
“There’s blood here.” For a fraction of a second his heart froze.   
“Show me” his voice sounded calm… practical. He drew a deep breath and followed the kid.  
In the corner of the room, behind a broken desk and toppled filing cabinet. It was smeared on the wall… and dripped on the floor… “It’s not that bad” he told himself “not that much.” He was grateful it wasn’t a deadly amount… but… he tried not to think the kidnappers might have moved Neal through here…after he bled out…  
Peter’s radio crackled… Jones’ voice sounded tense as it came through  
“Peter… you need to get down here…” something about the way he said it…  
“What did you find?” it took an effort to get the words out…He was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear the answer.  
“I can’t…” was that a crack in the younger agent’s voice “you’re going to have to see…”  
Peter was already running.  
“Where are you?”   
Two minutes…it took two minutes to find the basement room…Jones looked up as Peter skidded into the doorway… with a grim face he held up the object he clutched in his gloved hands… for a moment his superior didn’t understand why a crushed piece of plastic caused the haunted look in the younger man’s eyes… then he did.  
He stepped forward… pulling on gloves as he reached for it… he tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but he choked on it… the anklet wasn’t cut, wasn’t broken… it was destroyed… shattered and splintered… Peter tried not to think about the ankle inside it, but he couldn’t help it…  
“Any other sign of Neal?”  
“Well…” he waved to a pile of clothes kicked into the corner of the room “he was clearly here.”  
“Clearly… and not going far on his own…” he took in the implications of the clothes… Neal had to be freezing…if they took him out of the building, he wouldn’t last long in the falling temperatures. Another thought fluttered through Peter’s mind… he pushed it away… he tore his eyes away from the clothes… his gaze fell back on what was left of the anklet… Jones couldn’t seem to look away from it…Peter couldn’t make himself look at it   
“You think he was wearing it when they…”Jones shuddered.   
“I’m afraid so…” his voice broke… he couldn’t think about it… he had to focus.  
“Can you even imagine…”the younger man’s voice shook on the verge of panic at the thought of their friend’s pain.  
“Unfortunately…”Peter tried to hide the shudder… he needed to find Neal and he couldn’t do that if he panicked. “Yes I…can…” if he thought about Neal already shot… bleeding, his ankle mangled by whatever shattered the tracker… his breath caught and he tried to shove the thought away. Peter’s eyes scanned the room searching for a clue… any clue… his voice trailed off as he spotted the small rust, brown smear on the wall…not a lot of blood… Peter wondered if that was a good or bad sign. He spotted another drop near the door. Peter hurried to the hall… there… to the left, five or six feet from the door another drop. He waved Jones and the others to follow as he moved down the corridor, following the blood droplets until they stopped. Peter looked up… looked around. His gaze fell on a door…STAIRS.   
“Up or down?” Jones asked… the stairs were dim…Peter couldn’t see anything to indicate which way to go… he shook his head  
“I don’t know… maybe we should split up” Jones nodded and waved the team to move… half up half down… the door below… not quite closed, creaked on its hinges.


	8. breaking

The world swung back and forth…a wildly tilting ride that made him sick. The pain slid in and out of focus along with the rest of reality. The only constants were the cold, he was bone chillingly, mind achingly cold and the steady thumping of the bat. It seemed like he had hung here forever, but still the bat kept swinging. Neal couldn’t see it any more, his vision spiraling in and out, but he knew it was still swinging because his body still jarred every few second with the impact he barely felt. Some part of his mind knew it was a bad sign that he didn’t feel the agonizing pain of each new blow, but he didn’t care, couldn’t make himself care. He was just so grateful it was over… Over… did that mean he was done… dead…? He didn’t think he was… not yet, but the world just seemed so far away…. So unimportant.   
Vaguely he wondered how long Richards had been pummeling him, wondered how long the man could keep it up. His eyes focused on his tormentor. The dark hatred still burned in the man’s eyes, his face still twisted in that horrible semblance of a smile, he was enjoying this. Johnny paused to wipe the sweat from his face. He chuckled at something one of the big men said, leaning on the bat. Neal tried to take advantage of the reprieve… to catch his breath, but he couldn’t draw in any air, something was in his throat. The warm liquid blocked the path to his lungs, flowing down his inverted airway, he could taste it in his mouth, feel it running into his eyes and the world was darkening… fading…  
“NO!!!!” something his mind screamed. He didn’t want to go… Nate… he had to make sure Nathen was safe… had to tell Peter… he might not be worth saving, but the little boy was innocent. Peter could still make a good man out of him even if his genes were against him, but he couldn’t let Richards get him… Please… save my son…don’t let him turn out like me…please.  
The gurgling sound echoed in his mind as he forced a trickle of air into his chest… it wasn’t enough…he could feel that… not nearly enough. He tried again, another dribble of oxygen. The liquid filled the tiny void in his throat, choking him... The darkness grew despite his struggle, blacking out the world. He tried to pull his eyes open, but he was drowning… Drowning hanging upside down in his underwear in a frigid, dirty subbasement… it was ridiculous… his lips twitched with one last smile at the thought…  
Somewhere far away a phone was ringing…. A disembodied voice shouted   
“They’re coming. We need to go!” with a final violent jar that shot surprising pain through Neal’s cheek… his head… oblivion opened her mouth and swallowed him.  
*********************  
Peter took a hesitant step down the stairs. The door creaked again and they were running down the shadowy stairs. The subbasement door swung open with a small screech ending in a loud clang as it struck the concrete wall. The hall that stretched to the right looked much like the basement above, flickering, buzzing fluorescent bulbs, dirty frayed carpet and dozens of metal doors…  
To the left, a wall. Peter glanced that way before turning right. The sound of deep laughter echoed though the space from the left. Jones shot Peter a look, they turned as one to stare at the abrupt end of the hall. A flimsy shelf leaned haphazardly against the wall. The two men shoved it aside, revealing a jagged hole, cut through the foundation of the building, into the disused tunnel. The team stepped into the murky darkness, a few pale emergency lights cast weak shadows in the gloom. Across the shaft a matching gap could be seen…  
“They’re coming! We need to go!” echoed through the corridor. In an instant the agents were pushing their way into another basement. The room on the other side was vast, throwing the slap of shoes back at them… making the gun shot someone fired in their general direction resound endlessly as the men ran from the room, pursued by eight members of the team…  
Peter didn’t notice the five men retreating from the other side of the room, didn’t register the danger of the shot. He didn’t hear his team rush off in pursuit. Peter saw one thing…one agonizing image he knew would be seared into his memory for the rest of his life. The slim figure in the middle of the room, swinging slowly from the ceiling, fingers brushing the blood stained floor… pale… silent… still.  
He started at a sprint, but his steps slowed as he approached his friend. He had a very bad feeling there was nothing he could do. He caught a glimpse of Neal’s face as the swaying rope languidly turned the lifeless body, blood drained from his mouth and nose… running into his vacant blue eyes. There was no sound ….no gasping for air… no wheezing breath to echo in the still room. His chest didn’t heave, didn’t struggle to pull in oxygen… the silence… the stillness of his form froze Peter’s heart in his chest.   
“NO!” His mind screamed, but he couldn’t force a sound between his lips. He just stared… helplessly… at his best friend’s broken body.  
Clad only in his underwear his arms hung oddly as though the joints in his shoulders were… gone… his chest looked strangely misshapen, his cheek and eye, black and swollen with a wicked bruise the reached his hairline, blood dripping from the jagged rip in his face. Hip muscles no longer supporting his weight relaxed and stretched, allowing broken joints to slip apart, his ankle obscured by the rope obviously shattered. His skin… translucent in the rare places it wasn’t bruised, wore a dull colorless grey pallor, his lips a faded blue. Peter prayed the blow to the head came early, that he didn’t feel the rain of agony evidenced on his body, but he had a sickening feeling it hadn’t.  
Suddenly Peter couldn’t stand to see him hanging there, couldn’t bear the thought of him there, exposed, while swarms of agents investigated…took pictures, collected evidence ignoring him… farther de-humanizing him… forgetting he was a man… a friend…   
He heard Jones running back from the other side of the room, turned back from the pursuit… had it really only been a few seconds he stood here… it felt like an eternity…  
“Peter…? You ok?”  
“Cut him down.” Peter choked, if he couldn’t save his best friend he could at least give him some dignity.  
“Boss?”  
“I am not leaving him up there to be poked and prodded like a side of beef.” He looked at the younger agent… “Cut. Him. DOWN!” his voice was quiet, but the urgency shouted in the shadowy room. Jones nodded, understanding his superior’s desperation. He waited on moment while Peter positioned himself below their friend. Then reaching as high as he could and holding Neal’s legs with one arm, he cut the rope…  
Peter cradled the drooping, unresponsive body as the younger agent lowered the young man’s legs gently to the filthy floor. He wanted to sob… to scream, but he simply sat there stroking the matted hair softly as gravity pulled those blue, blue eyes closed. When his right hand moved to grasp cool slack fingers his friends head slid from where it rested against Peter’s shoulder, rolling loosely to fall over the crook of his elbow, turning his face away as though even in death he refused to look at the man who should have saved him.  
A single gurgling gasp…


	9. everyone is afraid sometimes

It was just one gasping, choking breath, but it changed everything, turned a corpse back into man, changed grief to hope and fear, gut wrenching, heart clawing fear. Peter looked up at Jones questioningly   
“Did you hear that?” the younger man didn’t answer, instead moving swiftly past his superior and dropping back to his knees. Peter noticed the slight tremor in the man’s hand as it reached out, finger tips pressing to the pale throat, the deep sigh that shuddered through him. Peter held his breath as Jones looked up and met his gaze with utterly disbelieving eyes  
“Pulse is there…”he gulped “Lay him down… we need to open his airway…” Jones choked out…pulling the young man away from his friend and positioning him gently on the floor… “Boss hold his head” Peter nodded placing his hands on the pale cheeks, he tilted the kid’s head back, supporting the slack jaw. He reminded himself to breathe normally, waiting nervously as Jones leaned over Neal… “He’s breathing now, but d** it’s shallow” rising quickly Jones glanced at his phone “S*** no signal down here. I’ll be right back, boss… I have to call for help…” Peter nodded again, almost afraid to speak, terrified his voice would destroy the fragile illusion his friend was alive. Then they were alone. Peter could just see the miniscule rise and fall of the shattered chest…  
“Just hang on…ok… just stay with me” he whispered…Peter’s eyes strayed to the awkwardly folded limbs… the livid bruises… he swallowed his horror “I can’t imagine how much you’re hurting right now, but I know you’re strong, stronger than most people realize…please hold on.”  
Neal choked, his feeble breathing catching in his chest, his broken body convulsing with a desperate effort to pull in oxygen. Trying not to think of spinal injuries and internal damage, Peter turned him on his side. He closed his eyes as the blood gushed between colorless lips, attempting to find comfort in the wet wheezing breaths that shuddered through the younger man. He didn’t notice the tiny shift of the dark head… the delicate flicker of eyelashes before one blue eye cracked open. The first hint of life he perceived was a slender hand, brushing clumsily against his knee. Stilling that hand in his own, Peter forced himself to look at his friend’s ruined face.  
“Neal? You with me?” he didn’t expect a response. The kid couldn’t really be awake, but he was just so grateful for any level of awareness. He felt the tiny nod under his left hand rather than saw it. “Good… don’t try to move… just hang in there…” he looked into his friend’s eye… “Do you understand…?” he had no idea what the damaged man could comprehend. He doubted it was much, but he was Neal.  
“Y-yes” there really wasn’t a sound, just a soft rustle of breath as his lips formed the word…more blood trickled out…  
“Don’t try to talk… rest… you’re safe.”  
“G-good” Neal’s face crumpled with pain… he seemed to be trying to think of something  
“It’s ok. Whatever it is… you can tell me later, when you feel better.” The dark head under his hand twisted side to side slightly “You’re going to be alright, Neal.” He tried to smile at the young man, but his face wouldn’t go along with the reassuring lie. He watched the slit of blue vanish for a long moment. Neal pulled it open once more, with tremendous effort, panic flaring in his expression.  
“N-n-nate?” the fear and hope in that one word…  
“He’s safe Neal. He found me. Diana took him to get checked out, but he’s fine” a flicker of a smile darted over pale grey lips, before his eye slid closed and his trembling body relaxed…   
‘Neal?” no response, Peter sighed, what did he expect? Even that brief moment of consciousness seemed miraculous if he really considered the younger man’s condition. He waited, feeling the struggling breath under his hands… praying it would continue.  
It stopped.  
*******************************   
The little boy sat on the exam table waiting for a doctor, his bare feet kicked rhythmically, knocking lightly against the side of the table. His small fingers fidgeted on his knees. His huge blue eyes darted around the cubical as if trying to look at everything at once.  
Diana tentatively lay a hand on his dark head  
“How you doing buddy?” she asked as she tucked the blanket back up around his small shoulders. He shivered, his expression turning sad.  
“I’m…I’m ok” he swallowed hard “Is my mama coming soon?” Diana tried to cover the sigh, here in this moment she almost wished the couple pulled it off…  
“I’m sorry Nathen she can’t come here, but I’m going to take you to see her and your dad as soon as the doctor says you can leave, ok?” the child nodded.  
“Ok…I’m not scared…” he sounded terrified.  
“It’s ok to be scared…” Diana stroked his hair softly.   
“I’m a big boy… I’m seven… almost eight.”  
“I know you are and you have been really brave,” she gently turned his face toward her “but everyone gets scared some times.”  
“Everyone?” he studied her with a gaze too intense for a child “Even you?”  
“Yes, Nathen even me…” the agent looked away, hiding the fear she couldn’t suppress, wondering how the team’s rescue was going. Nathen was quiet then… for a long time.  
“Diana” Nathen’s voice was tiny “It was dark. It was always dark. I don’t like the dark.” Tears slipped out then. She wrapped her arms around him while the boy sobbed, stroking his hair and murmuring soothingly.  
******************************   
Jones guided the paramedics down into the dank basement dreading what he might find. He almost held his breath as he opened the door, bringing the large empty room into view. Several of the other agents had returned to the room, they clustered around the two men on the floor. Peter still knelt beside Neal. The injured man lay on his side now covered by several coats. A heavy foreboding silence hung over the room. Jones swallowed harshly as he hurried forward, trying to catch a glimpse of his boss’s face, praying there was still hope in his eyes.  
The paramedics pulled the coats aside. Jones saw their bodies go rigid with shock as the clump of agents fell back. He heard one of the men mutter something that sounded disturbingly like “nothing we can do” and “lost cause” even as his hands moved to search for vitals.  
“I have a pulse.” The man almost sounded surprised  
“Respiration is 30… shallow and labored… decreased breath sounds on the left”  
“Left pupil is sluggish” their hands moved like lightening over the still, flaccid body. Jones flinched as they turned the young man onto his back. The agonized groan and feeble movement of his arms to ward off the pain was the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing he had ever seen. He helped them lift him, giving his friend’s hand a soft squeeze before they started to move him. He thought he felt a tiny grip in return, but he wasn’t certain. He turned his eyes to his boss…  
“You ok, Peter?” the older man nodded… “Come on, I think the team has the scene covered and forensics will be here soon… I’ll drive.” He didn’t need to say where they were going. Another wordless nod.  
They were in the car when Peter finally looked up   
“He woke up for a few seconds”  
“That’s a good sign”  
“Then he stopped breathing again.” Peter sighed. “D*** IT! Why does he always have to do something stupid…? If he had just told us he had a lead on the boy…We could have...”


	10. ache

Diana offered Nathen her hand as he hopped off the exam table.  
“Let’s go see your mom and dad” she smiled at him. The little boy’s face lit up  
“YAY!” he was practically jumping up and down with excitement, his smile lighting up his eyes. She was impressed, he was a resilient little guy. She guided him toward the curtain separating them from the rest of the ER. Suddenly the hallway outside was a blur of confusion… a flurry of activity as an apparently critical patient was brought in…doctors and paramedics shouting… franticly running feet… she pulled Nathen back, obscuring his vision. The last thing the child needed right now was to see someone dying.   
Through the small gap in the curtain Diana caught sight of the trauma team dashing past, intent on the broken man on the gurney… she had a split second look at the pale unresponsive face…dark hair clumped together and stiff…a hand forcing air though the mask over bloody lips… her blood turned to ice as her heart skipped a beat. It was just a glimpse she told herself… and with the bruises and mask partially obscuring the features… she couldn’t be certain… but she was…. Deep in her gut she was horribly certain. Swallowing the urge to be sick she straightened her shoulders. There was one way to confirm what she already knew.   
As they vanished into the small room at the back of the ER she took Nathen’s hand again. She tried to smile reassuringly at the little boy, but she felt it fall flat.  
“Come on.” She stepped into the hall with one last worried look at the trauma room. She led him out into the waiting area. Instantly her fears became undeniable reality. Coming toward her were Jones and Peter, bloody and pale. The looks on their faces… she gulped.  
“Nathen, I need you to go sit in that chair right there while I speak to Peter ok?” he nodded quietly. “Boss?” he blinked at her, nodded to acknowledge her presence. “What happened?” He shook his head, opened his mouth to speak then stopped, trying to find the words.  
“I don’t know…” he swallowed bitterly “they… they beat him… its bad”  
“How bad? Will he be ok?” Peter looked at her sadly, shaking his head, but he didn’t answer for a sickening moment. That told her more than she thought she wanted to hear...  
“I thought he was… gone” was all he finally said. He looked around, seeming to pull himself together… “Is Nathen alright?”  
“He’s fine, though the doctor recommends trauma counseling.” Peter nodded absently  
“Take him to see his parents. We’ll keep you updated on…”  
“Thanks Boss” she hesitated studying his trembling hands, the tightly drawn lips. Diana wasn’t sure she should say any more, but after a long moment she said softly “I saw him when they brought him in”  
“You did?” he looked at her trying to gauge whether he wanted to know… “Was he…?”  
“They were all over him. I didn’t see much” Peter opened his mouth, then closed it again. She watched his fear fight a brief war with his need to know. He swallowed convulsively  
“CPR?” she understood the real question.  
“No compressions… he was alive”  
“You’re sure?”  
“Yeah…” Peter’s shoulders relaxed slightly, something shifted in his eyes. He honestly hadn’t expected Neal to make it to the hospital, she realized. Peter was certain he had slipped away in the few minutes in the ambulance. She shuddered at what that information revealed “it looked like they might be ventilating him, but…” Peter nodded, he was not surprised by that at all. She sought the right words, because what could she say “Boss, this is Neal…”Diana forced her lips to curve up… to try to lighten the gloom hovering over their little group “if anyone can talk Death into letting him go…” Peter smiled back with an obvious effort.  
“Take care of Nathen.” He nodded toward the little boy “and Diana make sure he’s safe… something tells me these people won’t just let him go… I’m pretty sure he can ID them.” When she nodded and moved away toward the boy the knot of tension in her stomach had not uncoiled in the slightest.  
***************************   
Kimberly Bryant waited impatiently, almost holding her breath. The guard had removed the restraints when he placed her here, back in the holding cell at the federal building. She nervously toyed with a loose thread on the leg of her jumpsuit. Though no one had explained why they brought her back, there was only one reason… Nate. She hoped desperately it was good news, but the fear was an elephant in her chest… crushing her heart. If her baby was … hurt… she swallowed the tears, looking up as another guard led her husband into the adjoining cell.  
“Have they told you anything sweetheart?” he asked, his voice cracking   
“No… it has to be about Nate right?”  
“Most likely.” He moved to the bars separating them “Sweet heart come here.” She silently joined him, pressed against the bars, wrapping her arms around his waist…his strong embrace warming her shoulders. She pressed her cheek into his shoulder, she tried to enjoy, to memorize his touch. She had a feeling it would be a long time before they were together again. She breathed in his scent, felt his heartbeat, and drew strength from his solid frame.   
The door in the hallway opened. They pulled apart, hands still clasped through the bars straightening bracing for whatever the news was.  
“Mama?! Dad?!” Suddenly the prospect of going to prison seemed unimportant as Kim caught sight of the slight form that followed the young lady to the door of the cell. She waited impatiently for the key to unlock the door… waited… held her breath until thin arms wrapped around her waist, until a dark head pressed into her stomach. His small hands clutched at the jumpsuit. His whole body trembled, but he was here… alive… he was ok.  
“Nate, baby are you alright?” he nodded against her, not letting go  
“Hey buddy…” Ryan’s voice died in his throat. He gulped, drew a soothing breath and tried again. “Did they hurt you, buddy?” he hated to ask, but…  
“Not really… the mean one hit me, but I’m ok…” relief wafted through Kim, her tears came, falling on Nate’s hair, gripping his shoulders tightly as Ryan reached for their son, smoothing his curls with a shaking hand. Then they were wrapped together, the three of them coiled around each other oblivious of the metal rods between them. Shaking, sobbing, clinging… for this one last moment they were whole… a family.  
*********************  
The child advocate watched her suspiciously as Diana sat down beside Nate at the conference room table. The stiff woman seemed to think she was accusing the boy of a crime when she said she needed to get his statement. The child ignored the woman explaining that if at any point he felt threatened or pressured he should inform her immediately. She told him that he did not have to tell the Agent anything he did not want to… through the lecture Nate flicked his eyes back and forth between Diana and the pad of paper and the pencil clutched in his hand. He grinned at Diana and swiveled the chair back and forth… spinning it completely around once or twice.  
He raised his eyebrow at her, smirking as the lady finished with  
“I assure you Nathen you can trust me… I only have your best interest at heart” her sharp look at Diana implied the young agent did not.”  
“I’d rather trust Diana or Agent Peter…” he glanced around as if the man he had been instructed to find might be hiding nearby “or Neal… he was nice.” The woman’s eyebrows arched almost to her hairline.  
“Agent Barrigan is going to ask you some questions Nathen… if you do not want to answer you are not required to.”  
“I know.” The little boy rolled his eyes impatiently “you said that already… like 5 times” she narrowed her eyes and snapped her lips closed.  
“Nate….” Diana began “can you tell me about the person or people who took you?” he nodded.  
“There were three of them. Two of them were really big… their muscles were this big…” he held out his hands in the approximation of a circle about 8 inches in diameter. “One of them was blond… he was the tallest… almost as tall as the door. The other one was dark… like the man you talked to at the hospital… not Agent Peter”  
“Agent Jones?” the child shrugged “The man with Peter?” Nate nodded smiling  
“But this guy was bigger… meaner looking too, but not as big as the blonde guy…” he hesitated “and not as mean as the little guy.”  
“Tell me about the little guy.”  
“He had brown hair and brown eyes, but not dark brown… sort of light brown … like gold…” the little boy shivered “He was really mean… he grabbed my arms really hard and shook me when he told me my daddy is a murderer” the child looked at his drawing quietly for a long moment “then he hit me cause I looked away… he was mean.”  
“I have a friend, Nate, who draws really well, do you think you could tell her about these guys so she could draw them?” Nate looked at her nervously  
“I could, but…” he turned the pad of paper he was drawing on “This is the little guy… his eyes aren’t quite right, but it’s almost…” She knew that look, blue eyes lighting up with mischief. Diana shook her head, she should have expected that, she thought as she took the pad from the child, staring back at her was a rather nondescript man in his mid to late forties with the most hate filled eyes she had ever seen, drawn with startling accuracy for seven year old…  
“Thank you Nate.”  
*****************************   
“He never listens to me hon!” Peter knew he was ranting…getting a little loud for a surgical waiting room. He dropped his voice a bit, pressing the phone closer to his jaw. He wished she could be here in person, but she was up to her neck in wedding details…in Pennsylvania “Doesn’t he understand. I ask him to tell me these things for his own good! If he had just told me this wouldn’t have happened” he heard his wife sigh. She really had been patient, he thought, and painfully quiet while he raved.  
“Honey…” she broke into his tirade at last.  
“I’m only trying to protect him!”  
“I know hon” her voice was deeply sympathetic  
“It’s like he’s determined-”  
“You know you aren’t really mad at Neal, right?” her words hit him like a Mack truck  
“What?”  
“You are scared for him and feeling guilty you didn’t protect him…and furious with the guys who did this… but you aren’t really mad at Neal.” That stopped him for a moment  
“But if had told me he had a lead we could have…”  
“Yes, you could have given him a mike and came swooping in when he found Nathen. I know.”  
“What was he thinking?”  
“More less the same thing you were thinking when you went in… that he had to save someone he cared about…and you know that.”  
“I do, huh?” she was right… of course… he did know that.  
“You’re avoiding the rest of your feelings, honey I know that anger is a lot easier to deal with than fear…” or grief, he knew they both thought it, but neither one said it “but you are going to have to deal with it… you can’t keep avoiding it.”  
“You’re right hon… you’re right” he sighed, the door opened admitting a tall thin doctor “I am going to have to deal with it… I have to go Elle… the doctor is here.”   
“I love you” she assured him as they disconnected. Peter straightened his shoulders, drew in a breath and held it as the man approached.  
“I’m Dr. Zane Sanders” he offered Peter his hand and the agent remembered to breathe.  
“Peter Burke…” he tried to gauge the news by the look in those green eyes. GRIM… not good news. He wanted the doctor to assure him the younger man would be ok, but it appeared he would be getting the last thing he wanted to hear “Neal?”  
“We have completed the surgery… they are placing him in a room now” translation, Peter thought, he’s alive. “But I’m afraid, Agent Burke, it doesn’t look good right now.”


	11. Waiting

Twenty percent chance of surviving the first forty-eight hours… twenty percent! Four to one odds… It had rattled in his mind like a loose bolt, obscuring much of what the doctor said afterward… Peter caught something about broken ribs… twelve rib fractures in total, spread over seven ribs, five pelvic fractures, broken collar bone, both sides… shattered ankle…internal bleeding, a small skull fracture at his left temple and a serious concussion… there were details… about damaged organs and blood loss, but all he really understood was Neal had to hold on for two days… against long odds, but he was Neal… he would beat the odds…right?   
Peter stood up and paced…his footsteps matching the rhythm of the soft hiss of artificial breathing… twenty-six hours in and the young man was still fighting. He tried to convince himself that meant … something. It was hard to believe his own arguments however, because the kid looked dead. There really was no other way to describe his appearance… wilted loosely into the bed, his skin the exact translucent grey, white of granny’s milk glass splashed with garish greens, blues and blacks… and entirely unresponsive, even his heart beat never wavered… even when an orderly dropped a stack of dishes with an enormous clatter just outside the door... The longer he remained unconscious the more the doctors were concerned about the blow to his head. Moving carefully so he wouldn’t accidently disconnect anything important Peter stepped to the bed and lifting a cool hand, he rubbed the still fingers between both of his hands… trying to will warmth and life into them.  
“More than halfway there…you can do this, Neal. Just keep fighting…Nathen needs you” no response… “Diana ran the DNA test…it should be back soon, but I don’t have any doubts. He’s yours... the kid is going to be a pain in my a** in a few years if someone doesn’t guide him. You should see his drawing of the kidnapper…” he squeezed the limp hand softly “I mean it, kid, you need to pull out of this and see it... the boy has your talent… and your inability to sit still.” Nothing… not a flicker of life.   
Shaking his head he sank back in the chair… “They told me I’m too close to this case you know… and it really wasn’t White Collar’s area… they handed it over to Violent Crimes… I tried my best to argue, but…I really don’t have a leg to stand on…the agent they put in charge seems…competent, but it’s not the top of her priority list…” the silent figure remained lifelessly still. Peter smothered the urge to shake his friend. He stood up again… laying a hand on the dark hair “Just hang in there and…” his voice broke then “and come back to us… you hear me.” He stroked the hair under his hand. “I’m going to get some coffee… don’t you even think about going anywhere while I’m gone.” Peter tried to keep his tone light, but…he couldn’t help thinking about the only place his friend might go right now.   
Twenty percent chance… four to one odds. Shuddering slightly he turned to the door with one last helpless look at the bed. Twenty two hours to go before those odds changed.  
*************************   
She sighed as she sank into the couch, took a deep breath and sighed again. Almost two hours to get the little boy to sleep and an hour and half later. Just as she was getting ready for bed he woke up screaming. It took another half hour to sooth him back to sleep… Diana was exhausted… she sipped her tea thoughtfully…her mind replaying the conversation she had with the boy.  
“Diana…I need to see Neal” he said abruptly the tears of his nightmare still on his face.  
“Nate, I don’t think that’s possible.” She tried to sound soothing   
“He was hurt, wasn’t he?” the little boy leveled his intense gaze on her “Is he dead?”  
“Why would you ask that?” the bluntness of the question startled her.   
“He’s your friend, right?”   
“Yes”  
“You’ve been sad since you saw Agent Peter at the hospital.” He looked at her solemnly “You can tell me if he is… my great grandpa died last year so I understand.”  
“He’s not dead, Nathen…” she drew a slow breath trying to think of how to explain the situation to the obviously bright seven year old boy. “He’s not dead… but he was hurt. Badly. He’s still unconscious… I promise I will take you to see him as soon as possible.”  
“Ok… is he going to die?”  
“I don’t know Nate… no one knows.”  
“Oh” the little boy was quiet so long she thought he might have drifted off. “Diana? I really need to see him…”  
“He won’t know you’re there.”  
“He might die.”  
“Nate…”  
“I need to see him… just in case.” She sighed. “Go back to sleep Nate. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” He nodded  
“You’ll let me see him tomorrow?” his voice was getting drowsy   
“We’ll see…” she smoothed his hair “we’ll see.” The child finally dozed off.   
Diana shook her head wondering what she had gotten into. The boy was without question Caffrey’s son …DNA test or no DNA test…what possessed her to volunteer to take the boy in she had no idea…but she had agreed to protect him and she intended to see it through… Agent Ariana Valdez had been hinting at turning him over to Child Services since she took over the case yesterday. She seemed inclined to believe the kidnapper got what he wanted and would leave Nate alone now. She was a good agent, Diana knew, but she did not like the woman… Maybe it was the way she carried herself as if social interaction was an inconvenience or maybe it was the way she had taken the case file absently and dropped it onto a pile of files with a little arch of her eyebrows and a longsuffering sigh, like it was insignificant… as if Neal was insignificant, but she rubbed Diana the wrong way.   
Peter didn’t agree… he said his gut told him to keep the boy close and protect him, so here she sat. She would insure his safety as long as she could… hopefully before Valdez insisted they give him up Neal would be awake and able to give them something more… concrete. She studied her tea… there hadn’t been any news on that front. Of course, in this case, no news really was good news… still she wondered how Neal was doing…   
She finished her tea and stood up. Even though it was her own apartment she moved to check the exterior. She peeked out the front door before double locking it. She checked each window before moving to the French doors. The small balcony lay in deep shadow as she checked the latch. Something caught her eye… a shadow moved across the alley. The dark figure of a man on the fire escape… Diana felt his eyes on her and pulled back sharply reaching for her weapon… another look. The shadow was gone, but his presence lingered in the night. She shivered.  
***************************   
Nate flicked the thumb stick making the RC robot spin in circles. Then twisting it back and forth he made the toy dance across the floor… he watched it move smoothly but even though he was glad Diana let him go home and pick up some of his favorite things, his mind just wasn’t on playing. He couldn’t help it… his thoughts kept wandering back to the man that saved him… the man that might be his other dad. The last time he saw him, Neal was boosting him up to a high window and giving him instructions on how to get away. The man smiled at him reassuringly patting his ankle as he scrambled over the sill.   
Two days ago Diana promised she would take him to the hospital to see Neal, but she still hadn’t. Every time he brought it up she looked at him with that awful expression… and changed the subject. She just didn’t understand that he needed to see him… even more if the man was going to die… that meant he might not have a chance to do what he needed to do… Mama would be so disappointed if he didn’t… he dropped the remote, forgetting about the toy entirely.   
If Diana wouldn’t take him then he would go himself. He just had to figure out how to get there… He hadn’t traveled across the city alone that much, but he was sure he could figure it out…  
**************************   
Peter planted his feet firmly, staring down the sharp faced woman. Agent Valdez glared at him.   
“I need to speak to him as soon as possible”  
“He’s still unconscious.”  
“I’m aware how protective you are of your consultant… you would tell me if he was awake, right?”  
“Why are you behaving like Neal is a suspect…” Peter leaned back against the wall trying to put her at ease… “He’s the victim, remember”  
“The boy’s said the attacker told him Caffrey is a murderer.”  
“You want to interrogate him?” all attempts at placating the woman forgotten, he straightened abruptly. “Based on the word of a man who kidnapped his son and nearly beat him to death… are you insane?”  
“I didn’t say he’s guilty… but I would be remiss if I didn’t ask about it.”  
“He has never been violent… everyone knows that”  
“Do we? Do we really know that?”  
“I think it’s time for you to leave.” He glowered darkly at the woman… “You will not be talking to Neal any time soon.”  
“I am required to take his statement as soon as he is able… you cannot keep me away.”  
“He isn’t awake Valdez! He may never wake up! Do you understand that?”  
“And that is unfortunate…”  
“Why because you can’t pin a murder on him if he doesn’t!”  
“I’m not saying he intentionally killed someone, but if he was even involved with someone who did…”  
“He wasn’t. Get out!” he growled, turning away and stalking back into the hospital room.  
Peter sank in to the chair he had occupied the last four days with a deep sigh. Neal didn’t stir… remaining as ashen and utterly lifeless as he had since the first day. Dr. Sanders said this morning that every day he remained this way, his chances of a full recovery dropped further, and that woman… his face twisted with anger… how dare she. His frown deepened  
“Neal, I know you are not a killer… but… not everyone knows you like I do… D*** it! You need to wake up!” his phone buzzed softly. Peter glanced at the screen… Diana. He slipped quickly into the waiting room to call her back. When she answered her voice carried an intensely worried note…  
“Boss? Nate is missing…”


	12. hope

“Neal… I have to go…” he spoke softly, gently. Peter didn’t want to frighten him… on the off chance his friend could hear him “Elle is on her way. She’s going to stay with you for a while. Why don’t you make her day and wake up for her.” He sighed. “D*** that little boy is definitely yours.” He took a deep breath. He stood there silently listening to the soft mechanical breathing that seemed to fill the room. The door clicked open behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and gave his wife a half smile.  
“Hey hon” he managed   
“How is he?” she stepped further into the room “he looks better… the swelling has gone down some.”  
“That’s great… it will make the mortician’s job easier” he couldn’t keep himself from muttering bitterly.  
“Honey?” She took his hand gently “Did the doctor say something? I thought they said his chances are getting better?”  
“Yeah up to about 50/50… flip a coin…” he sighed “but it may not matter.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Because this may be his future Elle. Just like he is right now… the doctor says he isn’t showing any neurological improvement. That’s a bad sign…”  
“He’ll get better” she squeezed her husband’s hand softly “he will, honey”  
“I hope so, because I know he wouldn’t want to live like this…” Peter swallowed harshly “and I don’t know if I’m capable of making that kind of decision for him…. I don’t think I can.” Her slim arm snaked around his waist.  
“It’s far too soon to be thinking about that.” he forced a smile for his wife and kissed her cheek  
“I know, but I can’t help it” he sighed “but right now I’ve got to run”  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Nathen has disappeared. I have to find him… if anything happens to the kid…” he trailed off as she nodded. “You’ll stay with Neal…? I keep hoping if he isn’t alone…”  
“I’ll be here.”  
“Thanks hon.” He turned to hurry out. He needed to find Nate. Even if no one was gunning for the boy, the streets of New York were a dangerous place for such a small child. The stubborn boy really was just like his… father. Peter couldn’t stop the smirk. He could picture Nathen in a few years standing in his office wearing that trade mark Caffrey grin. With the right guidance Nate could be an amazing agent… Peter sighed. With the right guidance there was no limit to the boy’s potential there was no reason to assume…   
He turned the corner at the nurse’s station and stopped short. The dark hair came just above the woman’s waist, the frightened little voice didn’t quite carry his words to Peter’s ears, but he could guess what the boy was arguing with the nurse. Clearly she was sticking to the no children under twelve in the ICU policy.   
“Nate?!” the child and the nurse looked up  
“You know this boy, Agent Burke?” she sounded surprised  
“I do Pamela”  
“He’s not allowed in there.”  
“I’ll take care of him.” Peter took his arm “What are you doing here Nate?”  
“I need to see Neal.”  
“Nate… that is a very bad idea… Neal is…”  
“Still unconscious …I know Diana told me”  
“Then you understand why I can’t let you see him” he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed “Nathen, do you have any idea how much you worried Diana? What were you thinking?” Peter cringed, he sounded like the boy’s father … well, he corrected himself, maybe not this boy’s father. Somehow he couldn’t picture Neal ever saying those words.   
“I have to see him.” the blue eyes were huge and plaintive “My mom says if someone does something nice, you have to say thank you and he might die and I won’t ever get the chance to tell him… Please.” Peter shook his head, struggling to ignore the desperate pleading in the small voice.  
“Berrigan.” Diana’s voice radiated stress.  
“I’ve got him…” the sigh of relief echoed in his ear.  
“Where is he?”  
“At the hospital … I caught him unsuccessfully trying to talk his way passed the nurse… to see Neal”  
“D*** it! He’s been asking to see him for a couple of days.” Peter flinched slightly. Apparently this wasn’t just an impulsive idea “I’ve tried to talk him out of it …”  
“I’ll keep him here until you come for him.”  
“On my way Boss.” She disconnected with a soft curse. Peter studied the child grimly for a long moment. Then he spun on his heal and approached the nurse.  
“Pamela? Neal is Nathen’s father, would it be possible for him to come in for just a moment…” she glared at him sharply “Please I won’t let him stay long, but… who knows it might help.” The woman pursed her lips thoughtfully. Glancing at the boy she blew out a breath and nodded.  
“Two minutes, you understand agent Burke, two minutes… not one second longer and make sure he doesn’t disturb anything. I don’t need to remind you how precarious Neal’s condition is.” Peter nodded grimly… he definitely didn’t need any reminder of that.  
“Thank you.” He turned and took the child’s small hand. “I got you two minutes Nate” he studied the kid “you need to know there is a lot of things attached to him… tubes and wires… you absolutely can’t touch any of them. Do you understand…?”Peter wasn’t sure how much to explain to the child so he finished awkwardly “Right now they are what’s keeping him alive.” The boy nodded solemnly. “Good come on” he guided Nathen down the hall and into the bleak room. Nathen seemed to freeze in the doorway for a long moment. Peter let him take in the scene without saying anything. Elle looked up curiously when the door opened. She rose from her seat at the bedside and gently took the little boy’s hand, shooting Peter look that screamed what are you thinking bring a child in here? He shrugged helplessly  
“It’s ok sweetie… come on in” Nathen followed her into the room. As they approached the bed he seemed to shake himself from his trance. Timidly his small hand moved to touch Neal, then abruptly drew back. “What’s wrong sweet heart?” she spoke soothingly. Nathen regarded her nervously  
“I don’t want to hurt him.” Elizabeth smiled kindly, sadly  
“You won’t…” she looked at Peter helplessly clearly trying to think how to explain to a seven year old that the still figure in the bed was seemingly incapable of feeling pain at the moment.  
“He said I might mess something up…” the little boy pointed to the agent  
“Peter!” she glared at him mildly “Nathen, honey, it’s ok… here you can touch his arm… see, nothing attached there.” He nodded then lay his small hand on the man’s arm  
“Mama says I should always say thank you when someone does something nice… and you protected me and got me out of the dark… and you might be my other dad so… thank you.” The little fingers slid down the arm and grasped Neal’s hand as he added in the smallest whisper. “And please don’t die… I want to know you.” He stood there quietly… uncharacteristically still for a small boy. Peter looked at his watch and cleared his throat  
“Time to go Nate.” The child nodded and released the limp hand he held. As his fingers skimmed across Neal’s palm to everyone’s surprise the lifeless hand suddenly closed around the boy’s in a weak grasp. Nate looked at Peter, panic in his eyes  
“I didn’t touch anything… she said it was ok, that I wouldn’t hurt him.” Peter smiled in disbelief, moving carefully to his friend’s side  
“I don’t think you did anything wrong.” He told the boy, his hands moving to gently encase the hand that loosely gripped Nathen’s “Neal...? Can you hear me?” Nothing… He sighed, disappointed. Still this was something… wasn’t it? “Come on, Nate… Diana will be here soon.” He gently helped the child extradite his hand, shepherding the boy toward the door. Peter looked back one last time… he froze… dark eyelashes quivered briefly before a thin slit of blue appeared…widening slightly.  
“Neal?” the eyes flicker to his face, trying to focus. Peter immediately moved closer bending over the bed. Recognition fluttered through the young man’s gaze “Are you awake?” the pale eyes drifted away from his face… searching… resting on Nate for one instant, widening with relief before they closed … leaving Neal as apparently lifeless as before. Peter honestly smiled for the first time in four days.  
**************************  
Valdez was fuming. How dare Berrigan go behind her back like this and insist Hughes keep a small protection detail on the boy. Clearly he was not the object of the suspect’s vendetta. The child had been a means to an end… a way to get Caffrey’s attention… nothing more. Handing him over to child services was the appropriate action… especially after his little disappearing act last night…It should have been done the day he was rescued. The social worker had been kind, but the kid clung to agent Berrigan desperately, trying his best not to cry. The agent told him to be brave, that she would not abandon him…She gently peeled him off her leg and shot Valdez an artic glare. Obviously the woman took it personally, arranging this protection detail to make Valdez look bad… and to tie up half her team. They had more important cases to work on. They didn’t have time to waste on some old partner of Caffrey’s, according to the kid he accused the con artist of murder… the man might have a valid beef with the guy.  
She parked her car in front of the social services building, grateful to find a spot so close. She intended to collect her team from this pointless gesture. As soon as she stepped out of the car she heard it… gunshots. Drawing her weapon, Valdez hurried to the mouth of the alley. Three men blew past, knocking her to the ground. She struck hard as if hit by a truck. Momentarily dazed she sat up slowly. Shaking her head to clear it she caught a glimpse of the men as they scrambled into a cab. Recognizing the smaller man from the boy’s sketch, Valdez leapt to her feet and ran into the alley.  
“WHERE THE H*** IS THAT AMBULENCE!” Berrigan’s voice echoed from the concrete walls. “Hey Lenny… you stay with me, ok… hang in there. Eyes on me you got that?” Valdez pulled up short at the scene before her…Berrigan bend over Lenny Thompson leaning heavily on the man’s chest, arms soaked with blood to the elbows. Jennifer Williams was busy tying her scarf around Agent Jones’ left arm. He flinched slightly, but declined her suggestion he sit down with a shake of his head… his right hand wrapped protectively around the small boy that clutched his leg, sobbing in terror, while he spoke rapidly into his phone.  
“D***IT!” Valdez thought, sprinting forward.


	13. Pain

She tore her gaze away from the paramedics performing CPR on her partner as they loaded his still form into the ambulance. Trying to make herself focus on what her boss just asked her. Jennifer knew she was probably in shock. Everything had gone wrong so quickly… and now Lenny was… she gulped. He had a girlfriend… fiancé… and a baby. Valdez glared at her, but with less venom than usual, her eyes trailing toward the closing doors of the ambulance as well.  
“Jennifer? Did you hear me?”   
“What was that ma’am?”  
“I need to know what happened.” Jennifer shook her head, her eyes darting to the second bus… Jones was arguing he didn’t need to go to the emergency room. Clearly Diana and the paramedic disagreed. Berrigan’s strident voice carried to the young agent.   
“Have you lost your mind? The bullet is still in there!” Jones gave her a mildly surprised look and dropped his eyes to examine his arm curiously.   
“Jennifer what happened?” Valdez asked again  
“The social worker took the boy in… Thirty minutes later those three men were dragging him out the side exit into the alley.” She swallowed hard. The urge to be sick lingered in her throat “the small one had a gun out… pointed at the kid’s chest.  
“He was clearly threatening the boy?”  
“Yes ma’am… ranting loudly ‘your dad killed my daughter… you have to pay for the sins of the father…’ that kind of thing” her voice trailed off as the ambulance carrying her best friend sped away.  
“The boy’s father… interesting…” Valdez looked thoughtful “go on… then what happened”  
“L-lenny yelled… Lenny yelled for him to drop his weapon and…” she swallowed again trying to breathe away the horrible feeling she was going to be sick all over her boss. “The man just turned and shot him… just like that… one second he was standing there beside me and the next blood hit me in the face and he was on the ground… Jones and Berrigan returned fire…they called for backup …the other two suspects fired a couple of rounds before they grabbed the smaller guy and tried to pull him away… Jones was hit… it spun him around, but he didn’t go down… Berrigan dropped to her knees, but she wasn’t hurt… she tried to help Lenny… I finally remembered to return fire as well and they fled… the kid is smart though… he dropped like a rock as soon as the shooting started and then he ran to us as soon as it stopped….”  
“Thank you, Jennifer.”  
**********************************   
Burke stood up as she entered the room, clearly intending to remove her, but Valdez had no intention of being removed… not now.  
“The situation hasn’t changed Valdez… he is still unable to talk” he gestured to the man in the bed and the breathing tube trailing from his lips. She had no intention of cutting either of them an inch of slack though.  
“Oh yes the situation has changed!” She tried to pin Burke to the wall with her furious glare “Lenny Thompson was pronounced dead on arrival thirty minutes ago because of some vendetta against your CRIMINAL CONSULTANT!” She threw the words out harshly.  
“I’m sorry to hear that… Lenny was a good agent.”  
“D*** straight he was! A good agent and a good man and a good father. He didn’t deserve to bleed to death in a dirty alley.”  
“No he didn’t”  
“His fiancé deserves to be planning their wedding not his funereal”  
“I agree”  
“The man who killed him was screaming your pet con here KILLED HIS DAUGHTER!”  
“Valdez, Neal wouldn’t… I know it’s hard for you grasp, but he’s a decent man… he doesn’t deserve this either.” She snorted a harsh bitter laugh  
“I got a print off a casing at the scene … Johnny Richards… well guess what, his daughter died seven years ago… SHE WAS 15!” Her glare was deadly “If I find out Caffrey had anything… ANYTHING to do with it I will make sure he goes down! Am I 100% clear?!” Burke narrowed his eyes coldly  
“You better have a lot more than accusations if you intend to try it.” The injured man stirred slightly… seeing his eyes cracking open just a sliver Valdez stalked to his bedside.   
“I saw that” she sneered as his eyelids dropped again “don’t you dare try to pretend you are still out!” his eyes fluttered open again, his gaze unfocused, trying to look at her, then abruptly they rolled back…closing “A good man is DEAD because of YOU! WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE GIRL?!” The blue eyes remained closed… the limp figure didn’t even twitch as she screamed at him. Valdez grasped his shoulders intending to shake the man until he responded. Strong hands grabbed her from behind, pushing her to the wall  
“Don’t touch him.” Burke’s voice was low, but deadly serious  
“I know he’s awake… I know he hears me…you may be fooled, but I know.., I saw him open his eyes.”  
“Yeah he does that…he opens his eyes for a couple of seconds at a time! He isn’t able to answer questions… he definitely isn’t up to you screaming at him and manhandling him!”  
“I will find out WHAT HE DID TO THAT GIRL!”  
“Valdez you are leaving NOW.”  
“Fine” She growled “but you remember, a member of my team is dead. If you think I’m going to stop digging you are dead wrong.”  
“Dig then… all you want… but you remember this Neal is a member of my team… and he’s been in a coma for five days… If you even think of laying a hand on him again, the assault charges you will be hit with before you get back to the office will be the least of your worries. Am. I. Clear?”  
“Will you still think he’s worth it when I tell you one of your people took a bullet today too?” She spun on her heel and strode away. The moment she was out of sight Peter grabbed his phone.  
****************************   
Dr. Sanders stood quietly just inside the door watching the FBI agent. He hadn’t meant to listen to the conversation earlier, but honestly, half the ward couldn’t help over hearing. The woman had obviously been angry, and Peter hadn’t sounded thrilled either, though he definitely kept his volume at a lower decibel. The conversation was going to be awkward the doctor thought, but it needed to happen… with his patient beginning to show signs of returning consciousness… after what they over heard, some of the staff were…concerned.  
“Peter” Dr. Sanders shifted his weight nervously.  
“Doctor?” the brown eyes were filled with concern “Is something wrong?”  
“Peter, I’m sorry to bring this up but some of the nurses are concerned. The woman who left a little while ago was… a bit loud. We couldn’t help over hearing part of what she said…” Peter dropped his eyes for a moment and when he looked up again the worry had been replaced… by a protective anger.  
“About him being a criminal? Does it matter?”  
“I assure you that whatever you say will not affect the quality of care I give my patient but I need to know if he is a threat to the staff or other patients in anyway.”  
“Does he look like a threat to you, Dr. Sanders?”  
“At the moment…no.” the man shrugged, he paused thoughtfully for a few seconds “but that could change very quickly… even the most non aggressive people tend to lash out when they are disoriented and in pain…If a person is already prone to violen-” The angry snort of laughter cut him off. He studied the agent a moment. “She was accusing him of…” the glare was glacial  
“I heard what she had to say.” Peter took a deep breath, drawing himself up straight “tell your concerned staff that Neal in one of the least aggressive people they are likely to meet.”  
“Are you certain because we all heard…?”  
“I KNOW WHAT YOU HEARD!” Peter dropped his voice abruptly “And I’m telling you… you would be more likely to intentionally hurt someone than he is.”  
“I see…” he hesitated unsure how to proceed…  
“Forgery… ” Peter shook his head “look, do you think I would be working with him if he was violent… that I would he sitting here with him if… If I couldn’t in good conscious call him a friend.”  
“I suppose not…”  
“He is not a bad man… more like a misguided kid… please make sure your staff knows that…”  
**************************   
When the dark silence he floated in finally receded… it was sudden… like a bubble popping. Some part of his aching mind thought there might have been moments he struggled into the twilight edges of the darkness before… moments when voices penetrated the muffing fog… when distant light had called him, but this time light and sound returned in an agonizing rush. Too much color swirled mercilessly into his eyes….whooshing, clicking, squeaking, clattering sound rushed headlong into ears to long empty…he blinked…trying to make the dancing light and shapes take form….moved his hands to cover his ears…that small movement brought something into focus…PAIN!  
More than pain… gut twisting torture … like nothing he had ever felt before…it hummed violently through every inch of his being…almost submerging him once more in the inky silent blackness he just burst free of. He screamed against the anguish. Except there was no sound! Amid the cacophony of noise, his own voice was silent…lost. Panicked, he tried to rise… to run from this bizarre place… agony like a thunderbolt shot through him! Hands caught his shoulders as he dissolved back against the…the what? He didn’t dare turn his head to see…fighting to breathe…he blinked again…trying to focus on a vague form that floated before him…again and the face swam into clarity.  
“Pe-ter?” that earned him a tight smile  
“Hi”  
“Hurts…” he could barely hear himself though the mask …he doubted his friend would catch it, but a hand moved from his shoulder to run a thumb across his cheek…awkwardly swiping at an errant tear.  
“I’ll bet it does… just breathe ok? I’m going to call the nurse… just breathe…” the hand left his face…his friend’s face faded from his line of sight “and don’t try to move.” It was an order, even spoken softly as it was. He blinked…gasped and wondered fuzzily if blinking and gasping counted as moving.  
He heard Peter speaking with someone… arguing with someone… over the discordant symphony of hospital noise he caught   
“…in pain…”  
“…should be sufficient...”  
“Clearly not…” Peter sounded annoyed  
“…care for patients …not supply drugs... like him…”  
“… To Dr. Sanders immediately!” suddenly Peter did not sound annoyed, he sounded furious. He came back into Neal’s vision. For one moment he looked furious. Then his face softened.  
“You still with me? You still awake?” with an effort Neal pulled his drooping eyes wider…the agony ebbing and flowing like the surf… that painless darkness suddenly felt incredibly tempting.  
“…here…”  
“Good your doctor will be here in a minute…he’ll give you something for the pain…ok?” he nodded a tiny movement and instantly regretted it as a sledge hammer slammed into his left temple. A question floated up from the dim recesses of his mind…  
“Dy-ing?”  
“No!” the word was to sharp… to intense… Neal flinched… afraid of what that tone meant. “You’re going to be fine… just fine…” he watched the muscle in Peter’s jaw flex as he clenched his teeth.   
“Truth…” Peter deflated a little, sighing as he lay his hand far too gently on his hair.  
“I’m not lying to you Neal… it’s not going to be easy, but you are going to get through this… I promise.” That was good enough for him…he hurt far too much to think about it long… he tugged a ghostly smile into place for his friend… drifting slightly…the memory caught him before he slipped back into the bubble of murky silence… a little boy… his little boy his cloudy mind corrected… a ransom, a time and place…. His eyes flew open again.  
“Nate!” he whispered desperately “Miss-ed…Ran-som”  
“Yeah, you did, but it’s ok. He’s ok. Nathen is fine. Just rest. Dr. Sanders will be here soon.”  
“Real-ly?”  
“Really.” Peter patted his shoulder gently… “He’s safe with Diana.” The pain was more than he could bear… every breath tore through him… the darkness was pulling him under… away from the pain… far away he heard Peter say something about “…keeping the doctor…”


	14. cause of death

Thirty minutes… he waited thirty minutes for Dr. Sanders. Every few seconds he watched the pain flicker across Neal’s face in waves and still no sign of the doctor. He couldn’t stand it any longer… Peter had to know what was keeping the man. He marched up the hall to the nurse’s station.   
“Do you have any idea how long it will be until Dr. Sanders is available to check on the patient in 112…”  
“I don’t know… let me page him.” she gave him a long suffering smile “You know, there is a call button in the room for exactly things like this.”  
“I spoke to Angela thirty minutes ago. She said she was paging him then.” He glanced around the woman to catch the younger nurse’s eye, but Angela looked away. “You never paged him did you?” her head came up then, a defiant glint in her eye.  
“I told you before, my job is to care for patients who need it, not supply drugs to men like that. He is receiving appropriate pain management.” she spat the word man as though the taste of it was foul in her mouth. Crushing back the urge to scream at the young woman, he looked at the older nurse.   
“Please page Dr. Sanders… my friend is in a lot of pain.” He kept his voice tightly even.  
“Of course.” She shot Angela a reproving look. As the call went out Peter turned away… walking back to the room he heard Angela’s voice carry clearly down the hall  
“The man is a criminal, Tammy, probably an addict… I heard he killed a little girl.” Peter had the urge to turn back and tear into her. A small tortured sound from Neal’s room made up his mind for him. Forgetting the woman in an instant, he hurried back inside.  
“Neal? You awake?” a pitiful moan was his only answer, but the younger man’s hand grabbed his blindly and hung on desperately, his breath coming in hollow gasps. “Shhhh… Dr. Sanders will be here soon” he glanced at the monitor nervously as the blips became increasingly rapid and uneven. “It’s going to be ok” the wave of pain seemed to be passing, the hand clutching his growing slack… Peter drew a shaky breath, glancing at the door hopefully. By the time Dr. Sanders appeared they had ridden out two more agonizing waves of near consciousness and anguish.  
“Peter, what is going on? Tammy said you asked her to page me.”  
“He was awake…”  
“Fully?”  
“He was talking to me… it was hard to tell how clear he was, because he was in so much pain.”  
“He’s in pain? He shouldn’t be in pain.”  
“I’m not sure that pain really covers it… I asked one of the nurses to help him. She said he was receiving sufficient pain management, but he can’t take much more of this.” The doctor looked at the monitor and frowned…quickly pulling his stethoscope from his neck and positioning it in his ears, he listened intensely to Neal’s chest…his eyes filling with concern, as a deep groan escaped the injured man at the touch. Turning to the IV Dr. Sanders’ expression darkened suddenly.  
“The nurse who was here… did she check this IV?”  
“No… Angela seemed to think he wasn’t worth the trouble.” Fury flashed in the doctor’s eyes as he carefully rearranged the tubing.  
“The morphine drip was kinked… I doubt he has been getting even a quarter of the dosage he should have been.” The doctor’s jaw clenched tightly as he hit a button on the wall. He injected something into the line… he hesitated, then added something else. Tammy responded instantly to his call. Once more he listened to the harsh shallow breathing. Tammy took in the situation at a glance before she lifted Neal’s hand, fingers on his wrist… her eyes on her watch. They spoke in swift urgent tones, moving in hurried sync to deal with his apparent condition. Peter pressed his back to the wall trying to remain silent and out of the way while they worked. He didn’t listen to the words they spoke… he couldn’t follow most of the jargon they threw back and forth anyway… he listened, rather, to the tone of their voices…the urgency and concern worried him. He watched Tammy adjust the settings on the oxygen mask that covered much of his friend’s face…several more injections went into the IV line before he heard it … stabilizing… the tone was confident, the tension in their voices released…Peter sighed with relief. Dr. Sanders on the other hand looked thunderous. He strode from the room, returning with the younger nurse in tow.  
“Angela” he snapped “I want you to examine this patient.”  
“Dr. Sanders?”  
“Do you see the elevated pulse? The shallow rapid breathing…? Did you notice the falling oxygen levels? The erratic blood pressure?” Peter noticed the color blanching from the woman’s face. “You are aware of the severity of this man’s injuries correct?”  
“Yes, doctor but… he is receiving high doses of pain medication”  
“Is he? When was this bag placed?” she nervously checked the chart looking up in fear   
“This has to be a mistake … it says the morphine bag hasn’t been changed in eight hours but… it’s still half full…it should have been changed two hours ago” she swallowed “I thought… that woman said he was a criminal… I thought he was addict… I didn’t know…”  
“A man has been unconscious for six days following extensive and severe blunt force trauma… and your first assumption when he indicates he’s in pain is that he is angling for drugs…? You are so certain of your assumption you do not even glance at his vitals, because even a glance would have told you something was seriously wrong…”  
“I …I…”  
“He nearly died due to your assumption… if I had been unavailable when you first paged me…” Dr. Sanders barely contained his shiver. “Ten more minutes with insufficient pain control, Angela and you would have been paging me for a code blue.” He looked at her intensely… “As it stands… I have no idea how much this may have set him back… how much damage has been done… the man was already in shock when I arrived.” The sharp intake of breath and the deathly shade of her face spoke of dawning realization of the level of trouble she was in. To her credit she didn’t try to avoid it. Swallowing roughly she admitted  
“I didn’t page you when I was first asked to… I intended to, but… another patient called me and… I thought…” Cold rage swept through Peter like an artic storm, at her confession…  
“You thought any other patient was more worthy of you concern than he is!” he glared at the woman with eyes as hard as stone. “You heard what Valdez accused him of, and you decided to be Judge, Jury and…” his voice choked off, strangling the next word before it escaped because he would not allow that outcome. “You let one of the smartest… kindest people I have ever met suffer because of a comment you over heard! A comment I might add that had no basis in reality!” he turned to Dr. Sanders with a sharp look “I don’t want her assigned to him again.”  
“She won’t be.” he tried to smile reassuringly, but the strain in his eyes was clear “Angela… you are aware there will disciplinary action for this” the young woman nodded wordlessly as she left the room. Outside the door however Peter thought he heard her mutter “Kindest… my eye. Tell that to the little girl’s family”  
***********************************  
Jennifer Williams stared at her desk wondering when the nightmare like quality of her thoughts would fade. She tried to wrap her mind around the harsh reality… her partner was dead. Lenny Thompson was DEAD… again and again she watched Lenny jerk violently… stumbling weakly back two steps… a stunned expression in his green eyes, before his legs buckled and he sank to the ground in slow motion… “HE KILLED MY DAUGHTER!!!” echoed in her mind as Lenny’s eyes stared at her…losing focus…drifting away… Berrigan leaning over him pressing on his chest….and the blood… so much blood… everywhere. Jennifer stared at her hands… remembered them uselessly caressing Lenny’s face “stay with me…Look at me…” she pleaded, but his eyes didn’t focus…he gasped… choking…shallow and weak…she cradled him begging him to hold on. Lenny sighed deeply… the breath shuddering from his limp form… his weak grip on her hand releasing as his body relaxed impossibly… She’d held her own breath waiting for his next… but it never came… Berrigan pushed her gently aside… breathing for Lenny… his chest rose… fell… was still. Again… again… again… D*** it! Berrigan swore… suddenly she was crushing Lenny’s chest over and over… trying to revive him… nothing. No response… his head rolling to the side as if none of it mattered to him… as if it wasn’t his body they were trying to beat life into…didn’t matter that his ribs and sternum cracked beneath the woman’s hands… as if it didn’t matter that his chest was utterly still…except when the woman above him forced it to move… as if it was nothing that Berrigan was pressing her lips to his over and over… he would have laughed at that…that’s when Jennifer knew he was gone because Lenny would have laughed and he didn’t laugh… or even smile… so that drooping bloody thing lying far to still on the gravel wasn’t Lenny… not anymore because Lenny would have grinned at her if Diana Berrigan had kissed him even once, but now his face wore… nothing… vacant unblinking eyes half closed, colorless lips parted slightly by an unbearably loose jaw, dripping blood with each chest compression, cheeks cold and white… there was no expression… no life in that face… simply nothing. Jennifer gripped his hand, begging for something… anything... and still he gave her nothing, his motionless, lax fingers growing ice cold and sickeningly blue in hers. She frantically rubbed them, willing them to stay warm. His chest rose… fell… Berrigan gasped… rose … fell… rose… fell with forced breath… was still while Diana pressed on it, sharply compressing his lungs… his heart… blood bubbled from his lips… his nose…spilling down his grey blue cheek…   
She watched paramedics swooping in… tubes… wires… needles… frantic shouting… ripping his shirt aside. Lenny didn’t flinch, not when they stuck the massive syringe in his chest, not when they rolled him on his side to look for an exit wound… his limbs sagging strangely… folding bonelessly around his grey bloody chest. He didn’t answer their calls as they asked him his name and if he could hear them…didn’t look at them as they swarmed over him like carrion birds…moving him, talking to him… poking and prodding him…he didn’t gag when they tilted his head back, pushing the tube down his throat… didn’t even twitch as they cut into his chest and forced a catheter between his ribs…his arms flopped loosely as they shifted him to the gurney… green eyes still half open gazed skyward… sightlessly following his soul. She knew as they rolled him away he was dead…she knew he wasn’t there anymore… that the strange hands pounding on his chest… the tube in his lungs… the paddles that shot electricity through his body, making his boneless limbs jerk convulsively …forcing his frozen chest to arch sharply in a twisted parody of breathing.… would be no more effective to bring him back than his best friend’s pleading had been, because Lenny was dead. Still she hoped… prayed …all the way to the hospital…pleaded to be wrong… the doctor walking toward her…Lenny’s blood on his clothes, matching hers… face set… expressionless…hands firm… “Dead On Arrival…I’m sorry for your loss…” her mind screamed… though her voice was silent… her eyes far to dry… Lenny deserved tears… but she just didn’t have them…   
“Excuse me?” the voice wrenched her from the bitter memory “Are you Agent Jennifer Williams?” the messenger ask her. She nodded unable to trust her voice.  
“I have a delivery from the office of vital records.” Jennifer smiled tightly. Meagan Richard’s death certificate…Now they would finally see the teenager’s cause of death. They would have an explanation why her father wanted Neal Caffrey and his son dead, the reason Lenny was dead… she requested it two days ago… the morning after her partner… died. Jennifer shuddered.  
Valdez believed Caffrey murdered the girl… Jennifer thought it was possible that it was some sort of accident. She didn’t know that much about Caffrey, but Diana had said he wasn’t violent while they waited outside the CPS office before…Lenny… but he was a criminal so she could see him accidentally causing the girl’s death and never looking back… a hit and run while evading law enforcement, maybe… she shook her head willing herself to focus, to stop speculating, she had the answer right there in her hands. Trembling fingers opened the envelope. Her eyes scanned the document.   
Name: Megan Richards.  
Birth date: Oct 12, 1991.  
Date of death: April 27, 2007.   
Time of death: 2:14 pm  
And there…the line she needed … Jennifer stared … read the line again… it still didn’t make sense…   
Cause of Death: Lung Cancer…   
She glanced at her boss’s empty office… Valdez needed to see this right now.  
**********************************  
Drifting awake was easier this time… the blinding light was still there… the rush of sound… but the pain was… distant…he opened his eyes tentatively… blinking the fuzzy room into focus. He turned his head slowly… no mind deadening pain. He drew a shaky breath… looking around. The room was quieter than he thought. He was vaguely cold… and numb. His limbs felt heavy… impossible to move. Neal’s gaze traveled to the IV in his arm… the clear tube in his side… the monitors... reducing his life to numbers… he blinked letting his gaze wander to the empty chair drawn close beside the bed. Peter had been there last time, he remembered vaguely… someone cleared their throat… he shifted his gaze to the doorway… a woman he didn’t recognize stood leaning on the wall watching him with cold intensity.  
“Hel-lo?” he tried to smile, but she probably couldn’t see the effort behind the mask obscuring his face…because she glared in return.  
“Hello Mr. Caffrey… I am Agent Adriana Valdez… I’m here to talk to you about Meagan Richards.” Neal tried to think, to remember who that was… was it someone he should know… be worried about?  
“Who’s… that?” he managed… hating that he didn’t know. His mind felt so foggy…  
“Meagan Richards…” She glared at him threateningly “her father Johnny Richards tried to kill you and your son. He shot two good agents three days ago… one of them is dead. Richards claimed you killed his daughter… so Mr. Caffrey” her voice was ice “Tell me about Meagan Richards… how did she die?”  
“Don’t … know…” Valdez stepped closer her voice deadly quiet.  
“What did you do to the girl Caffrey?”  
“Noth-ing” he suddenly was afraid as she moved nearer… his breath catching in his throat… gagging him… wheezing in and out of his shattered lungs in tiny gasps. His eyes darted frantically to the door wishing Peter would appear… or a nurse… anyone really, who could make this woman leave.  
“Did you kill her on purpose… or was it an accident?”  
“Did-n’t …kill…” he tried to sound clear and certain, but he only managed weak and afraid…  
“One of my agents… one of my friends is DEAD, Caffrey. I am not playing this game with you.” She lay her hand on his arm, clenching the muscle in her grip tight enough he felt her finger nails dig into his skin. He hissed in surprised pain. “What. Did. You. Do. To. The. Girl.” she annunciated each word slowly enforcing them with a sharp shake of his arm. Neal recoiled in terror… remembered pain ricocheting though his mind….  
“Please…” he whispered trying to get air… drowning… he was hanging upside down and drowning… he couldn’t breathe… the blows kept coming… still coming…  
“Caffrey, I’m not buying this… you better talk to me!” He heard someone shouting at him from miles away as his vision tunneled to a pinprick of light… something was ringing… that distant voice… “Hello? I’m with Caffrey now, Williams… tell me you have something I can …” the voice faded away… somewhere… someone familiar was shouting… he was cold… drowning… he couldn’t feel the bat striking his body anymore…


	15. ready for answers

He felt better, Peter hated to admit it… had argued fervently when Dr. Sanders ordered him to go home last night… informing him he would not be allowed back in the ICU for at least nine hours, but a decent night’s sleep in his own bed with his beautiful wife had done wonders. He hadn’t realized how much eight days of sleeping in a chair had taken out of him. For two and a half days they had waited for Neal to resurface… but he seemed to have drifted back to the deepest level of unconsciousness… Dr. Sanders said the relapse was likely at least partially psychological  
“To wake up to such a horrific level of pain was extremely traumatic. Anyone would want to run away from that…and that is exactly what he’s doing. He’ll most likely come back when he feels safe to try again.” Peter had nodded… the words were meant to be reassuring, the problem was Sanders had no idea how good at running away Neal actually was… and it would be so easy for him to disappear for good this time. He shook his head trying to shake the worry out with it… it wasn’t just Neal… his whole team was fractured by this… with Jones out on medical leave and Diana laying low with Nathen … D*** Peter hated this situation. He couldn’t even afford to take any more personal days… so the last three days he brought case files with him… because he was not going to let his friend wake up alone… not after the last time… he did not trust the staff to take care of him without a watch dog. Even worse the team that was supposed to be finding the monster who caused this was more interested in blaming Neal for their recent tragic loss than finding the man who actually shot the young agent…   
The voice floating from Neal’s room froze his blood… Adriana Valdez. She wasn’t supposed to have access to Neal until Peter cleared it, but she was in there. She was alone with Neal   
“Caffrey, I’m not buying this… you better talk to me!” He heard her shout, he was running then. Her phone rang. “Hello? I’m with Caffrey now, Williams… tell me you have something I can use.” The woman looked up startled as Peter burst into the room. “I’ll have to call you back.” She leveled her angry brown eyes at him, then pointed to the bed “he’s playing something on me… refusing to answer…” Peter stared at her in disbelief… was the woman really that unstable?  
“He’s unconscious, Valdez.”  
“He was talking to me a few minutes ago” she glared at Peter “then he just…” he pushed past her, ignoring the rest of her words. Neal’s eyes were open… unfocused… filled with absolute panic and he wasn’t breathing!  
His chest moved frantically trying to gasp, but he wasn’t getting any air… behind the mask Peter could see the purple tinge creeping into his lips.  
“Neal!” Peter carefully pried the younger man’s clenched fingers from the blanket… he held the slim hand gently as it clutched his with a white knuckled grip “Neal… look at me… breathe… come on relax…” the terror filled eyes flicked his direction, but gazed straight though him… “You have to breathe…” a tiny wheeze of air hissed into his lungs “That’s it…keep going… look at me, focus” behind him he heard Valdez make a low frustrated noise in her throat. He ignored her… keeping his voice soft as his friend slowly drew another breath… then another until he was wheezing in something resembling a rhythm. Sluggishly the blue eyes focused on his face.  
“Drown-ing” pale lips formed the word soundlessly  
“No, Neal, no you’re not.” Finally the young man seemed to recognize him.  
“Pet-er?”  
“Yeah I’m here…”  
“Can’t… feel…bat…”  
“Neal, no one is hitting you now… it’s over… he’s gone…” absently he brushed at a tear that escaped the kid’s eye… “It’s over”  
“Nate?”  
“Still with Diana…he’s fine.” The sigh trembled through the frail frame.   
“Coddling him isn’t doing to get me answers about Meagan Richards.” Valdez broke in. Neal managed a weak glare for her. Glaring at her also Peter squeezed his hand carefully.   
“She isn’t going to hurt you… just rest. You’re safe now.” He waited until his friend’s eyes closed and the panicked grip relaxed. Then he spun back to Valdez gripping her arm as he escorted her quickly from the room.  
“I want to know what happened to that little girl!”  
“WHY!”  
“Why? Because she was an innocent child… and whatever that man did to her got my friend killed!”  
“You can’t be serious.” he stared at her in disbelief “Johnny Richards killed Lenny! Are you even looking for him?!”  
“Of course I am… I also want justice for that child. Everyone deserves justice.”  
“Everyone except Neal? Whatever you did in there could have killed him!”  
“He’s a criminal … probably a murderer.”  
“He’s not a murderer! Nothing he has ever done deserves this… Valdez, he wasn’t breathing and you just stood there yelling at him!” he took a deep breath trying to stop shaking with fury… fear… if he hadn’t come right then…“Do you even have a cause of death for this Meagan Richards?”   
“Agent Williams just called me… she has it, but you interrupted the call.”  
“So you don’t even know she was murdered?”  
“All I have to do is make a call.” She said. His cold gaze didn’t waver  
“Make the call.”  
“What?”  
“Make the call…on speaker” Peter told her. With a smug grin she dialed.   
“Williams? I need that COD”  
“Yes Ma’am… but it doesn’t make sense” Jennifer’s voice floated from the phone   
“What doesn’t make sense?”  
“The COD wasn’t murder… or even an accident”  
“It wasn’t?”  
“No ma’am, Meagan Richards died of lung cancer.”  
“What?!” Her triumphant expression collapsed. Peter couldn’t quite hide the smile. “That doesn’t make sense.”  
“I told you Neal wasn’t violent” Peter told her softly  
“He must have posed as a surgeon or something” she snapped as she hung up  
“You are awfully determined for Neal to be guilty. Why?”  
“Because he’s-.”  
“He’s what? What is he Valdez?!”  
“They are all the same.”  
***********************   
Jennifer stood outside the door… she raised her hand to knock. She might get in trouble for this, but she needed to know for sure. Valdez would not back down from her assumptions about the case, but Jennifer had her doubts. While she agreed it was important to know why Johnny Richards blamed Caffrey for his daughter’s death it looked to her, the farther she investigated, that the blame was…irrational. Which changed his profile considerably, if was true… While Valdez had had painted him as an angry father out to settle a score… it was important for the team to know if the man was also unhinged from reality. It completely changed the way they needed to approach him and Jennifer was not going to bury another friend over this case. She swallowed hard as the memories tried to swamp her again… Lenny’s eyes, half closed staring through her… the deep sigh rattling though his sagging body… Paramedics…blood… Jennifer gulped again, shaking her head as the door opened. Samantha Richards was a petite delicate looking woman. Her black hair and ivory skin created a dramatic contrast with bright green eyes that bore a depth of grief and a core of steal beneath their smile.  
“Good afternoon Mrs. Richards,” Jennifer forced her face to smile “I’m Agent Williams … we spoke on the phone earlier. I need to ask you some questions about your husband”  
“Yes, of course.” As she stepped back to allow Jennifer into her home the young agent noticed the thin streaks of silver in the woman’s dark hair… the small lines of wear around her striking eyes. Mrs. Richards led her to a cozy living room and gestured to a well-used couch. Once they were seated Jennifer began.  
“Mrs. Richards when was the last time you saw your husband?”  
“Please it’s Samantha and I haven’t seen Johnny in two and a half years… I tried to file for divorce… but he has completely disappeared.”  
“And you have no idea where he might be?”  
“None whatsoever. My son hears from him occasionally… post cards with no return address, untraceable e-mails… random phone calls…”  
“But you don’t believe your son knows where to find him?”  
“I don’t believe my son is interested in finding him, Agent Williams…”  
“Why is that?”  
“Our daughter died seven years ago… cancer. She was fifteen… It was… difficult…” tears shimmered in Samantha’s eyes “for all of us.”  
“I can’t imagine losing a child.” Vacant green eyes…Medics cutting into his ribs… limbs folding too loosely around his body…his head falling back over her arm like it was connected by a string… she closed her eyes, pushing the pictures aside.   
“I blamed Johnny pretty spectacularly in the beginning.”  
“Why is that?”  
“When Meagan first started…”she drew a breath “first started coughing I didn’t take her to the doctor… because… because Johnny had recently lost his job… and the insurance that came with it. So we tried to wait it out…”  
“How long did you wait?”  
“About a month… maybe six weeks.”  
“Samantha… do you know why your husband lost his job.”  
“He was a stock broker… he was fired for investing twenty thousand dollars of his client’s money… in a bogus company… we were ok… living on his ‘savings’ but no insurance ”  
“I see.”  
“I was furious with him when … our little girl… passed.” She shook her head. “He decided to prove to me it wasn’t his fault… started looking for someone else to blame… then trying to find the man he blamed… trying to make the police find and arrest the man for Meagan’s death… it became an obsession…that why I took Mike and left… he was starting to scare me. When I did he disappeared. I haven’t heard from him since…”  
“But your son has?”  
“Yes… Agent Williams… what has Johnny done?”  
*******************************   
Peter gritted his teeth… he didn’t want to do this, but Neal insisted he could handle it… had even requested a reduction of pain meds so his mind would be clearer, but it was too soon. He was still so weak… but Neal had been determined.  
“I don’t like this Neal… I’m not sure you remember the last interview with Agent Valdez…”  
“Not really…no…it’s … pretty…fuzzy” he gestured vaguely before pushing the oxygen mask aside to smile at Peter… “But you… insisted… on a… different agent… right?”  
“Keep that on, Neal.” he moved the mask back in place “It will still be someone from her team. Which means Lenny Thompson was their friend… and Valdez is still their boss.”   
“I can’t… talk with it… on” he held the mask in his hand now.  
“And your lips turn blue with it off”  
“Won’t keep… it off …long” he smiled wearily, sliding it back in place for several breaths before “Is Jones… alright?”  
“Yeah… arm hurts like ... but he’s ok”  
“‘s good… don’t know… why he’s… doing …this…” Neal’s voice was slipping into the softest of whispers… “Was… nice guy… Peter… big… smile…”   
“Who?”  
“John-ny…” the mask slipped from his hand as he dropped off to sleep. His friend had gently secured it back in place, and stepped into the hallway to make the call.  
“Hughes.”  
“Sir, Neal says he’s ready to give a statement.”  
“You don’t agree?”  
“He fell asleep in the middle of telling me… he’s still extremely weak, but he insists.”  
“Ok I’ll sent someone over.”  
“Not Valdez…”


	16. a different view

Jennifer was instantly swamped with memories as she stepped into the hospital waiting room… the doctor…he looked so tired… so blank… green scrubs… blood on his shirt… blood on her hands…the room was cold… spinning… DOA… nothing we could do… damaged his heart... his lung… Dead… no tears… Melinda had tears… sobbing hopelessly… “Do you want to see him… say goodbye…” Lenny lying on that table… still… forever still…eyes closed now… they closed his eyes…she realized, they closed his eyes, because they weren’t trying anymore… impossibly white… most of the blood gone…his face, his arms, his chest just ashy white… like the sheet that covered him… The tubes in his mouth and his side were gone… his hand in hers…folding loose around her grip… she squeezed his fingers… rubbing them gently but they were still…forever still… cold… not just his hands were cold now…his face… his body cooling … Melinda kissing him… kissing those cold blue lips…brushing his hair back from his eyes…hands rubbing his body, fluttering over his still chest…forever still now… sobbing, clinging to his hand… begging him to come back…shaking him…his head swiveling freely against the table  
“Please open your eyes, baby, Please, please, please baby look at me! This has to be a joke” Mel pleaded, Lenny was always joking… but it’s not a joke…Melinda lifting his shoulders to hold him…rocking him, cradling him…his head resting on her shoulder. She caressed her lover’s hair… his cool grey face, cheeks, lips… his eyes…holding him and swaying gently… “Please baby… please...” She loved him so much…   
“He’s gone Mel… he’s gone” his head falling back over Melinda’s arm as she clung to him… rolling heavily with the despairing motion of Melinda’s body…eyes cracking open with the pull of gravity on grey lids…her hands lifting him away from his fiancé’s desperate pleading embrace… the weight of him in her arms… dead weight… supporting his head carefully…laying him gently on the table as if she could hurt him… as if he still cared … her arm around the shuddering, tear blind woman… leading her away… before she could see those glassy, empty green eyes…Jennifer should cry, but her eyes were dry… she had no tears for her best friend…   
Jennifer shook her head firmly…clenched her trembling hands. She couldn’t afford to think about Lenny. The mandatory sessions with the psychologist would probably declare her unfit for duty until she had these flashbacks under control, but… she would put it off until they caught Richards… if it killed her. Squaring her shoulders she asked reception where she would find room 112. She was a bit surprised when they directed her to the ICU. Valdez hadn’t said much about Caffrey’s injuries… hadn’t been very interested in the case actually until Lenny… Jennifer swallowed and blinked hard before the memories could get a new grip… and walked purposely through the door to the critical care ward. She had a statement to collect.  
Burke motioned her outside the room the moment she opened the door. Stepping into the corridor he closed the door with a soft click.  
“Agent Williams I assume.”  
“Jennifer.”  
“Jennifer…” he hesitated “I understand agent Thompson was part of your team… probably your friend…”  
“He was my partner.” The man grimaced slightly and mutter something under his breath that sounded like “of course Valdez sent his partner” then he met her eyes with a pained look  
“I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you… and I don’t know what Valdez has told you about Neal… but Jennifer I need you to understand this.” he lay his hand on her arm in a friendly grip “Neal is my partner… he has been through h*** and he is still not out of the woods… I am asking you, please handle him gently.” She was surprised by his words and his actions. Valdez told her Burke was confrontational… bordering on violent… but… he simply seemed protective… if Lenny had survived… if he were here in this room… how fiercely would she have guarded him?  
“I’m not here to hurt him… I just need to know what happened… and why.” To her surprise he nodded silently and held the door open for her.   
“Me too.” Burke said quietly  
Just inside the room she froze… her hand clenched into fists at her side… the wires… the tube in his chest… the IVs …the still white body on the bed. She couldn’t breathe… the gravel digging into her legs as she knelt in the alley… the paramedics all over him… so still, so pale… green eyes… forced breath… chest compressions…IV’s, tubes… she blinked and the alley, the paramedics and her best friend’s lifeless body were gone… but … she glanced at Burke hoping he didn’t see her panic. His back to her, he was speaking softly… gently waking the man in the bed… elevating his head slightly. Now she could see the heavy brace strapping his left arm to his chest… blue eyes blinking sleepily at her over the oxygen mask… the cast on his leg… and his pale, pale bruised face… right hand moving weakly to pull the mask from his lips… he was studying her with surprising intensity… considering his obvious condition…  
“Mr. Caffrey, I’m agent Williams.” she began. He nodded  
“Neal”  
“Neal?” she hesitated… watching his face as his labored breathing whistled between them… “Jennifer” she finally relented. He smiled, extending his right hand. She found herself shaking it carefully, trying to avoid the needle in the back of the slender hand. His hand was cool… his grip loose… fingers tinged slightly blue… she tried not to think of her partner clinging feebly to her hand, his final breaths rasping in his lungs… his hand had felt just like this…just before… green eyes going vacant, his fingers relaxing… sliding through her hand as she tightened her grip…his chest didn’t rise…she forced a smile, pushing the picture away “Are you sure you’re up to this?” she found herself asking.  
“I’m fine…”he was watching her closely “are you… up to this…?”  
“What do you mean? I’m not hurt…” she tucked her trembling hands under her arms. He raised his eyebrows into a knowing look. Then the blue eyes darted to Burke’s face… she noticed he gave the older man’s frown a little smile… and lifted the mask back to his face…with a slightly exaggerated gesture…and drew a few breaths. She nodded, mentally shaking herself again. “Do you know a Johnny Richards?” he nodded   
“He ran…a small… numbers… business around… his day job…” he frowned “was a… nice guy…”   
“We believe he was the man who tried to kill you?”  
“I know…” his expression was pitiful “he was… so… angry…”  
“Did you know about his daughter?”  
“I met her… once… she was thirteen… fourteen maybe…” his lips lifted a bit at the corners. “Cute kid…” this time when he lifted the mask to his face there was no humor… just necessity…his lips were disturbingly blue…. The exact color Lenny’s were the last time she saw him… lying on the table in the ER…   
“Maybe we should finish this another time…?” focus on the living she reminded herself “you look tired.”  
“I’m fine” Burke snorted softly “I can… do this…” he amended  
“Ok… were you aware she died?”  
“Johnny… said that…” something dark flickered in his eyes “said I… killed her…” he shuddered “I didn’t…” He glanced over her shoulder at the older man “did…I?”   
“No you didn’t” Jennifer sighed “at least not directly…” his eyes widening in fear… or maybe pain. Lenny’s eyes widened just like that as he fell “Meagan Richards died… of… cancer…” she tried to make her eyes focus. Green eyes wide with pain and fear… gun fire everywhere… Berrigan shouting… Jones yelping with startled pain… Jennifer was on her knees…. Beside Lenny… his lips moved… looking at her… he was in so much pain… Berrigan was there…hands on his chest… blood… to much blood all over them… some part of her heard a voice  
“… us a minute…. Be ok…” she clenched her hands together. She needed them to stop shaking… needed to focus…because… because Lenny was dying in front of her and she needed to save him… but she couldn’t move… his breath gurgled…bubbled blood on her hands as she held his head on her lap… “Hang on Thompson… look at me Lenny!” Diana’s voice… she knew what to do… that was good because Jennifer was frozen… a cool hand suddenly lay over her balled fists… she blinked… right, hospital room… not that alley… victim’s statement … focus. She looked around. The man in the bed had shifted slightly, his weak grip on her shaking hands pulling her back to the present. His blue eyes regarded her kindly… knowingly.  
“Flashbacks?” the question was soft… to gentle…was it that obvious… she thought she was hiding it… she didn’t want pity… but there was no pity in his eyes just understanding…   
“What?” she asked trying to pinpoint what gave her away. He frowned… thinking…  
“The agent… who died… he was… your friend… right?” he paused to gasp painfully between words… the man was clearly not up to giving a full statement, but still his hand didn’t release hers… his gaze held her firmly.  
“My partner.” She admitted stiffly. His eyes moved involuntarily to the door… she suddenly noticed Burke was gone… Caffrey swallowed harshly, whatever he was thinking seemed to frighten him… then his attention turned back to her  
“You were… there?” she nodded not trusting her voice not to embarrass her, but he went on “keep trying… not to think…? Trying… not to… remem-ber?” she was staring at him in disbelief.  
“How do you know that?” his mouth twitched in a hint of a sad smile  
“Been… there…” he squeezed her hand “need to … let… yourself… face it…” his fingers stroked her hand gently… rubbing to release the tension… Lenny’s hand in hers… she had rubbed it too… but there was no tension there… cold and limp, a wet dishrag draped over her bloody hand… “It’s ok…” his voice was a whisper “tell me”  
“He was standing beside me and then he jerked back… stumbling… he fell. His eyes…” she choked on the sob that tried to come… she couldn’t cry, not here… not like this. She needed to be strong, but the young man was watching her with those knowing blue eyes and the words were suddenly tumbling over each other “he was right there … his head was in my lap… but he wasn’t there any more… I knew the moment he… left… he sighed, and I tried not to breathe until he inhaled, but… but he never did. He was looking at me… right at me, but…” her voice caught again “he wasn’t look at me any more… there was no soul in his eyes… Diana was trying to make him breathe… to keep his heart beating… and then the paramedics where everywhere cutting him and sticking things in him… they shocked him… trying to bring him back, but he was… was gone… and he wasn’t coming back…he was so pale… so still” she gagged on the words…  
“No Jennifer…” Neal interrupted the agonizing memories “Tell me… about him… what… was he…like?” his question surprised her. Jennifer blinked back the tears. She hadn’t thought about Lenny alive since…  
“He was … he was funny. He always had a big grin and joke.”  
“Sounds like… someone… I would have… liked”  
“Everyone liked him. He always had just the right joke to pick me up when something was bothering me… he made all those awful crime scenes bearable…he loved Melinda so fiercely and Bobby… their baby. Lenny was so proud of that little guy…”Memories of her friend’s laughter, his smile assaulted her now. His easy movements… his arm around Melinda’s waist at the BBQ last year… Tossing Bobby gently until he shrieked with laughter… she was crying then… sobbing helplessly as the young man pulled her carefully toward him.   
She wept into his shoulder, not noticing that he held her, until the arm around her shoulders grew loose… nearly slipped from her back. She pulled away abruptly. Neal was fighting to stay awake as long as she needed him… the mask lay on the bed beside him as he murmured unintelligible words of gentle comfort… his eyes were drooping… his lips strikingly blue, but still he tried to sooth her pain. Sitting up sharply caused his hand to drop… she quickly moved the mask back to his face… he blinked sluggishly… and smiled feebly. She dried her eyes… carefully positioning his hand back on the bed… he didn’t seem to have the strength to move it himself.   
“Thank you” she told him “rest… I’ll get the rest of your statement later.” As she walked away she felt lighter… Lenny’s smiling face lingered in her mind.  
***********************  
Angela sighed, cleaning out her locker was the last thing she thought she would be doing today. A week ago she planned to work here, in this hospital…in this ward until she retired. Now she was unemployed and waiting for a review panel to determine if she was still a nurse. Angela glared at her locker. She was a good nurse. She took good care of her patients …always…until last week. She heaved another sigh. She did this to herself, she understood and accepted that. She made the choice not to check the man’s pain medication…her mind stumbled over the word man. She had seen so many people here in the ICU the last two years… brought here because of men…monsters like that… Many of those patients hadn’t made it. She wondered about the girl he killed… wondered if she had been one of those faces under her care.   
Stepping out of the break room she saw that agent who insisted they page Dr. Sanders standing outside the killer’s room. He leaned against the wall… he looked tired, and worried. His gaze kept darting to the door nervously. The door opened and Angela watched a young woman with light brown hair and red puffy eyes step out. The agent’s head came up to and the nurse heard him speak. She didn’t plan to eavesdrop, but curiosity got the better of her.  
“How did it go?” the man asked. “Did he get through his statement?”  
The young woman shook her head “I’m afraid that’s my fault though.” She hesitated “he’s very understanding.”  
“Reading people is Neal’s specialty”  
“It was more than that” she smiled softly “Losing Lenny has been… difficult. He helped me get some of it out.” The man smiled and Angela edged closer.   
“That sounds like Neal.”  
“I spoke to Richards’ wife…” the woman drew a slow breath “about how their daughter died”  
Anger sparked in the man’s eyes “What did she have to say?” his voice was tightly controlled  
“That she blamed her husband for a while… that she waited to take Meagan to the doctor because he had recently lost his job, by the time it was diagnosed the cancer was too advanced.” Cancer? Angela froze. Maybe they were talking about another girl. That had to be it she decided.  
“I told Valdez, Neal wasn’t responsible.”  
“Actually” the girl shook her head before she continued “he may have been… unintentionally.” As the man’s head came up sharply, she continued “he’s not liable of course, but Richards lost his job as a broker because he invested twenty thousand dollars of his client’s money in a non-existent company”  
“And scams like that were one of Neal’s specialties…tell me you didn’t tell Neal that.”  
Angela couldn’t breathe. The girl died of cancer… the man didn’t kill her. Angela wanted to run away. Suddenly she didn’t care if the board took her license… she was closer to a murderer than he was. She knew she was going to be sick… but she couldn’t move. Her feet were rooted to the floor. She swallowed repeatedly, breathing away the bile rising in her throat. “I could have killed him, I could have killed an innocent man.” It played in her mind over and over.   
“I didn’t” the young woman answered the agent “Valdez isn’t going to let this go. You should know that …she recruited Lenny… his dad is a friend of hers…her objectivity is shot. She needs someone to lash out at.” she hesitated again “I’m not going to say anything to her just yet… until I speak to Meagan’s doctor…I got the feeling there was more to the story.” Suddenly the young woman was walking toward her, Angela turned and ran.


	17. protection

“No.” Neal spoke stiffly “no I’m not doing that, Peter.” He pushed himself up as far as his fractured pelvis would allow, his jaw set stubbornly. His lips were a tight line of residual pain as he shifted. After almost three weeks in the hospital… broken bones were healing… damaged organs beginning to recover. The bruises on his face had mostly faded to a swirl of pale greens and yellows splashed with small lingering patches of purple. He still had a long recovery ahead, but he was beginning to look and sound like Neal again. Right now he looked angry too, despite his attempts to appear calm, his blue eyes flashed defiantly beneath his dark lashes, his pale cheeks flushing. “You know I don’t trust them.”   
“I know you don’t” Peter hated this… hated that it was necessary but the image of his friend hanging nearly lifeless in that basement drove him forward “but it is the best option to keep you safe.”  
“You’ve done a pretty decent job of that the last 3 years.” Neal smiled at him… his eyes almost pleading with his friend to drop it.   
“Not good enough this time.”  
“Decent track record though.” His lips flicked up in a small smile  
“This isn’t one of our cases, Neal. Richards has gone to ground but he will resurface and when he does, he is going to go after you again.”  
“I don’t care.” His blue eyes flashed “I don’t trust the marshals.”  
“I know you don’t…” his voice dropped slightly as he repeated the acknowledgement. “And I don’t trust the FBI” Peter couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, but the thought echoed harshly in the corridors of his mind. Between Valdez’s open hostility, Richards’ yet unknown contact in the office and the absolute indifference of the whole Violent Crimes office, not only had his faith in the Bureau been shaken…his confidence in the decency of humanity was a bit tenuous. Agent Williams was the only agent assigned to the case who seemed to actually be investigating Richards. “But Neal you almost died…” he shuddered “it was too close.”  
“I’m not going back into WITSEC. I grew up in that system, I am not spending my adult life there too. I don’t care what the risks are.”  
“I do! I never want to find you the way I did in that basement! Never again!” Peter turned away blinking rapidly… Neal watched him quietly, his resolve floundering a bit  
“I have a life here.” Neal looked at him sadly, jaw still set. “I like being Neal Caffrey.”   
“This isn’t a long term arrangement, Neal…I’ll bring you home, but until Richards and whoever his connection is at the FBI are in custody we can’t keep you safe… I can’t keep you safe.”  
“I will sign a waiver, promising not to hold you responsible for my safety.”  
“You could do that.” Peter conceded “You are an adult and even if I think it is incredibly reckless.” his voice cracked just a bit “I won’t stop you.” He paused before he played his last card “but Nate can’t” that was low and he knew it, but he could not dispel the thought of his friend dying… broken and afraid. If he had to play a little dirty to prevent that… he swallowed his guilt.  
“What is that supposed to mean? They wouldn’t do that without parental consent, he’s a minor.”  
“Mr. and Mrs. Bryant signed that consent forms.”  
“Are they going with him?”  
“No… they made a plea bargain last week. 12 to 18 months for breaking and entering and possession of stolen property. Unfortunately they aren’t going anywhere.”  
“Then Nate is going… alone.” The thought of the little boy going into a foster home with a false name, in a strange city send a chill through his frame… the image of his son sitting on his bed, smiling as he chattered, was it just yesterday, floating through his mind “They can’t do that.”  
“The marshals are willing to place him in the custody of his biological father…temporarily.” He looked at Neal intently   
“To me? They want to give custody to me?  
“Yes the Marshals will place him in your custody. The Bryant’s agreed to it, but you have to accept protection.” Peter watched the younger man deflate. This whole situation made him slightly sick but he couldn’t think of any other way to keep them safe over the weeks… maybe months… not years, definitely not years, it would take to track down the crazed man who so nearly killed his friend.  
“Peter if I do this… you promise I can come home when you catch him.”  
“I promise. Richards doesn’t appear to have mob connections… once he’s convicted the two of you will be safe.” He lay his hand on Neal’s shoulder as the kid sighed, resigning himself  
“I’ll do it … for Nate.” his voice was hardly more than a whisper sounding like a man agreeing to sell his soul.  
*******************  
He closed his eyes and tried to block out the words he just overheard but the strident voice of the furious agent reverberated in his memory. Neal pressed his eyes more tightly closed in an effort to erase the horror that swamped his mind. He had started awake to a woman’s angry tones.  
“Burke, I demand to speak to him!”  
“Valdez, he has already given his statement and as you can see he is sleeping” Neal kept his eyes closed and his body still, trying to imitate sleep. Peter’s voice was steady but his tone dripped cold fury. Clearly this was an ongoing argument.  
“I spoke to Mrs. Richards.” The woman’s voice had a jagged edge.   
“Neal is not responsible for what happened to Meagan.”  
“Legally… no… there is no recourse for her family… no justice for what he did, but morally… you say he has a conscience. I doubt that… but if he does then he should know that a little girl died because his investment scam got her father fired.”  
“I am not going to allow you to tell him that.” Peter snapped “Richards got himself fired by choosing to ‘borrow’ his client’s money to get in on it.”   
“I don’t care what you allow. Her father snapped and a good man is dead. I knew Lenny Thompson since he was 12… his dad was my favorite professor and is still a dear friend and two weeks ago I had to look him in the eye and tell him his son was dead… because of your …friend”  
“Richards killed Lenny. He made the choice to take that boy’s life.”  
“He was pushed to it by the injustice of the situation created by Caffrey. His daughter was 15 years old!” Neal heard a noise like a suppressed growl from his friend and there was moment of silence before a shuffle of cloth and a rather sharp click of the door told him Peter had unceremoniously escorted Agent Valdez out of the room. Their voices still carried from the hall but the words were lost to him…  
Now he lay here alone unable to shut off the horrifying thoughts running through his mind. What if she was right … what if someone died because of his scam… no, not someone… a child… a 15 year old girl. She had her whole future ahead of her and he took her life… for what? Twenty thousand dollars…that was nothing. A child’s life stolen for… nothing. What kind of monster did that make him…?  
What if this was the reason Peter was so determined that he go with the marshals… what if his friend couldn’t stand the thought of protecting him anymore, of being responsible for a killer…? Peter had been defending him… but that didn’t mean this sat well with him. Neal’s mind swirled with the possibility… dipping and spinning with raging guilt and protests of innocence. “I didn’t mean it… I didn’t know it would happen…I didn’t know he was using other people’s money…I didn’t know she would get sick…” he argued desperately but his conscience snapped at him mercilessly… it doesn’t change truth… MURDERER! His heart screamed it at him… Murderer! Murderer! Murderer! Neal clenched his eyes tightly to trap the tears that tried to come, setting his jaw rigidly… he could not undo what was done… he would have to carry it…alone… until the day he died…   
************************  
“What are you thinking?!” Mozzie exploded as he burst into the apartment gesturing wildly.  
“I’m thinking I need to pack.” Neal looked up from his dresser pulling another shirt from the drawer and balancing it on the stack on his knee. Casual shirts… his suits probably wouldn’t be appropriate for his new life… though he couldn’t resist packing his three favorites.  
“You just got out of the hospital!”  
“Which is why I have to go now.” He smiled tolerantly   
“WITSEC?!” the little man nearly screamed “Have you lost your mind? Neal, the marshal’s will not have your best interest at heart! Remember how many times you have humiliated them!”  
“I don’t have a choice, Mozz.” He gingerly shoved the wheelchair back maneuvering carefully to the suitcase on the bed.   
“Of course you do, you would be better off trusting your safety the suits.”  
“Peter wants me to go.” Neal sighed, leaning back slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position for his aching hips. “I’m not exactly on the FBI’s favorite people list right now.” He returned to the dresser jerking out socks, quiet despair radiating from his every move. Neal winched slightly as he twisted healing ribs too sharply.  
“What is that supposed to mean? Why would he want you to go?” the small man snapped “Do you know how much time the Suit spend watching over you these last few weeks. I tried to sneak in to see you when he wasn’t there but, He. Was. Always. There.” Mozzie rolled his eyes, his expression amused. His words made the younger man smile just a bit, but he didn’t meet his friend’s gaze.  
“An agent is dead, Mozz and Jones took a bullet… because of me. That doesn’t tend to make me very popular.”  
“I heard about that, but unless you’ve taken up shooting federal agents” he smiled grimly “while unconscious I might add… you are not responsible for that.”  
“Johnny kept saying I killed his daughter while he was....” his voice trailed off the memory of the steadily swung bat striking his body filling his mind. A disbelieving snort brought him back to the present.  
“That is also an incredibly ridiculous thought.” Mozzie studied him, looking suddenly more nervous “you are not a violent man...makes me wonder how hard that blow to your head was if you can’t remember that.”  
“She died because she didn’t get proper medical treatment.” The older man opened his mouth to speak “her parents didn’t take her to the doctor soon enough, because Johnny lost his job…” his breath caught sharply “because I cost him his job.”  
“You had no way of knowing she would get sick.”  
“But I knew that scam could get him fired.” His voice dropped farther “I just didn’t care.”  
“Neal…” whatever he intended to say was cut off by a sharp knock on the door. The small man cautiously opened it to find Diana standing outside, a large lime green suitcase in one hand and grasping a little blue eyed boy with the other.  
“Did I mention going with the Marshals wasn’t just about me?” a hint of a smirk was back in the soft voice behind him.  
************************  
Nathen looked up from his drawing at Diana. She sat beside him on his father’s couch listening to the two men arguing. Well the little guy was arguing… loudly. Nate thought that Neal just sounded resigned and terribly sad. That scared the little boy. Diana squeezed his hand and he smiled at the woman who had cared for him the last few weeks.   
“Do we really have to go?” he whispered to her   
“Yeah I’m afraid you do? Nate…” she smiled reassuringly “Neal will take care of you.” The boy nodded at her comfort. “Caffrey’s a lot of things, kiddo” she hesitated just enough to make him curious “Things we don’t need to get into, right now, but he is very protective of people he cares about.”  
“Does that include me?” the boy didn’t dare look at her turning his blue eyes instead to the man in question. He really didn’t think his biological father looked like he was capable of caring for himself right now… never mind an unexpected son. The man struggled to maneuver the wheelchair around the apartment as he packed the few things he would be allowed to take, carefully avoiding his distraught friend as the other man shadowed him. Nate nervously clutched his back pack closer.  
“Apparently” Diana grinned at him “considering.” She nodded toward the continuing argument. Nate nodded again thinking of the first time he met his father and the frightening results, but he was still nervous. He barely knew the man. Three visits in the hospital was hardly enough to feel close to him… well four but Nate didn’t think it counted as quality time if the man was sleeping.  
“I’m scared.” The boy admitted.   
“It’s going to be ok.” She stood up then, laying a hand gently on the child’s head before she stepped away. He watched his protector move to his father… Neal… Nate still wasn’t sure what to call the man. She leaned down and spoke softly to Neal. Nate watched blue eyes that perfectly matched his own swing to study him. He smiled and his father smiled back but Nathen noticed his eyes were sorrowful. Neal reached out a hand to him. Nate approached shyly…  
***********************   
Leading the three marshals up to his friend’s apartment was possibly the hardest thing Peter had ever done. He wanted desperately to keep Neal and his son close… wanted to keep them safe. “Which is why I’m doing this.” he reminded himself silently. Knowing the attitude of Valdez and her team it would be selfish and dangerous make them stay here. He straightened his back. This was happening even if he didn’t like it. He was here to say goodbye but this wasn’t going to be permanent, he promised. They would both be home soon. When he raised his hand to knock he noticed a slight tremble in the appendage… Peter swallowed hard, pushing aside the thought that rose in his mind. “This temporary.” He whispered through clenched teeth.  
He wasn’t surprised when Mozzie opened the door. Glancing around as he stepped inside Peter found Neal near his bed… casted left foot propped up on the foot rest of his chair, Nathen balanced on his right knee. Their expressions were serious… the little boy looked like he might have been crying recently. A suitcase sat on the bed, another beside the couch where Diana reclined, watching them. He wasn’t really surprised to find her eyes were a bit misty. June bustled about in the kitchen… packing up a box of cookies. Wiping absently at tears that trickled silently from her eyes she looked up at him. Peter wasn’t expecting Jones to be there leaning quietly against the wall near the French doors… giving him a half-hearted grin as he entered. The room held a funereal feeling… a melancholy sense of finality... Peter tried to swallow his somber thoughts. “They will be back” he assured himself.   
He waited quietly while Marshal Randel tried to explain the rules… smiling slightly when Neal cut him off.   
“I know how this works. We don’t take any personal items that could be used to identify us. We don’t attempt to contact anyone from our past…we remember our new names and forget our old ones… did I miss anything important?” he swallowed “Is everything ready?”  
“Yes”   
“Then let’s get this over with.” Randel nodded and passed him a sheaf of papers to sign. The formalities finished, two of the men collected the luggage and carried it to the car. Randel smiled not unkindly.  
“I’ll give you a minute to say your goodbyes… I’ll be in the hall.” Peter waited… while Diana gently punched Neal’s shoulder with forced playfulness.  
“If you get into any trouble while you are gone I will hear about it.” She said… if her voice cracked slightly they all ignored it. Then taking Nathen’s hand she led him outside gently.   
Peter waited while Jones squeezed the young man’s arm affectionately, his eyes suspiciously damp.  
“Take care, Caffrey… I’ll see you soon” he smiled tightly, spinning on his heal in a perfect military turn he stalked out of the room… hesitating for the briefest of moments in the doorway before he disappeared.  
He waited while June hugged her lodger closely for a long moment, whispering something in his ear that made him smile.   
“Neal, honey, you come home soon… you know this house is far too quiet without you.” He nodded, unable to make that promise.  
Waited while Mozzie studied his friend for a long moment.  
“They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”  
“Benjamin Franklin” Neal smiled affectionately, his eyes sad.  
“You are really going to do this?”  
“Yes” the little man threw his hands in the air in defeat and glared at Peter.  
“You better bring him home.” He snapped before he fled. Then they were alone. Neal pulled his consultant’s ID out… staring at it he blinked rapidly. Then with a small sigh he offered it to the agent.   
“I can’t bring this” his voice soft.  
“I’ll keep it for you.”  
“I’d appreciate that.”   
“It will be right here when you come home.” He tucked the wallet into his pocket. Silence fell for a moment  
“Neal, I…” Peter sighed “I wish there was another way… but I can’t protect you… and Valdez and her team won’t.”  
“I know” he looked away… blue eyes unable to meet Peter’s gaze “I understand why I have to go.” There was such hurt in those blue eyes, the agent couldn’t hold his gaze. This felt so like a betrayal…   
“I’m sorry”  
“I don’t blame you, Peter don’t feel guilty.” Neal focused on removing a bit of lint from his pants and unlocking the wheelchair in preparation for leaving. “This is my mess… I’m sorry you got pulled into it.” His friend dropped a strong hand on his shoulder squeezing gently.   
“This is temporary” The older man insisted “I will see you soon”   
“I’ll see you soon” Neal looked up smiling then... Peter almost believed him… almost…


	18. Identity

Neal lay his head back against the seat, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. His new identity was a thirty-five year old widower named Michael Hamilton with an eight year old son, Bobby. His wife of ten years had recently died, killed in the car accident that caused his own injuries. He had a master’s degree in English literature from the University of Chicago. He smiled a bit at that. Michael spent the last twelve years teaching Shakespeare and Donne to tenth graders at a small private school just outside of Chicago. The file didn’t give a reason for the move to Phoenix, but that was pretty easy to fill in… who wouldn’t need change of scenery after the traumatic “accident”? Without opening his eyes he closed the file and tucked it beside himself.   
Nathen’s head shifted on Neal’s thigh and he smiled, running his fingers through the boy’s hair gently. He had fought to convince himself to give up Neal Caffrey for Mozzie’s treasure, but for this small boy he was walking away without hesitation. He smiled, though the expression felt a bit stiff. Neal was surprised at how protective he was of the child without even knowing him. He would do anything to keep this little bit of humanity, that consisted of mostly skinny arms and legs, safe. What would he do if anything hurt the kid? Already he knew his heart would be shattered in a way it had never been before. No loss he’s faced would even compare to losing this little bundle of energy currently sleeping peacefully on his leg… his fingers absently stroked the smooth cheek affectionately.  
His thoughts turned to Johnny Richards, on some dark level of his mind he could understand what drove the man to the level of violence he’s reached. His child stolen from him forever… the pain… the grief the man must have endured. Neal swallowed harshly, knowing he caused that pain… his body shuddered involuntarily, almost wishing he had died in that basement… if the team had arrived just a few minutes later he would never have known he was a murderer. He would have left this world in blissful ignorance of his horrible guilt.   
He shivered at the thought of the dark haired girl. He had met her once while doing business with Johnny. The girl had been glowing with excitement after sliding out of a metal chute in the warehouse where they met, her black hair flying around her face, landing with a soft thump on a pile of old rugs, raising a small dust storm around her. She waved at them when her dad called to her before jumping out of the way as her younger brother followed her down. Neal swallowed hard, his eyes tearing behind his lids. That pretty little girl was dead… she would never fall in love, never raise a family… she never even got to go to prom and it was all his fault.  
The painful thoughts tore through him like a stampede of elephants trampling his peace of mind, but they weren’t enough to keep him awake. He was tired… so very tired. As sleep pulled him under Neal wondered vaguely if he would always be so bone weary… “Was this how my mom felt?” he thought… he hoped not. Nate deserved better than that. Silence fell over his raging psyche  
****************************   
“What do you mean he’s already gone?” Valdez scowled at Jennifer  
“I arranged Caffrey’s transfer to the Marshals for protective custody as you suggested.” It really hadn’t been a suggestion so much as a moment of sarcasm, but Jennifer wasn’t going to split hairs.  
“I also made it clear I wanted access to talk to him before they took him.” her voice cold… anger oozing to the surface of her words.  
“Why so you could accuse him of murder…?” The younger agent shook her head “I spoke to Meagan’s doctor. Caffrey had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”  
“If she had received treatment in time…”  
“If she had begun treatment with in twenty-four hours of her first cough, she would still be dead.”  
“Her father doesn’t agree.”  
“Her father?” the young woman’s voice rose to a disbelieving squeak “You are siding with her father… the man who murdered Lenny with a moment’s hesitation?!”  
“I am simply saying there is some reason he feels that way.”  
“Meagan Richards died of an extremely aggressive case of Mesothelioma… which is caused by asbestos exposure… Neal mentioned he met her once at Richard’s place of ‘business’…so I checked into it… an old carpet factory…the company used asbestos in the carpets. Richards is doing exactly the same thing you are, ma’am”   
“What the h*** does that mean?”  
“It means you both need a scapegoat… someone to blame so you don’t have face your own guilt.”  
“My guilt?!” Valdez stared daggers at her.  
“Yes, your guilt ma’am” She didn’t back down “Meagan Richards died because her dad exposed her to something deadly…he apparently couldn’t deal with that… he needed someone to blame, Caffrey was convenient, but it could have just as easily been the doctor who couldn’t save her, his boss who fired him or his wife who hesitated to take her in…”  
“Fine, you made your point, but I fail to see what it has to do with me.”  
“Lenny…”Jennifer’s voice almost gave “Lenny died because you insisted on taking that little boy from Berrigan and handing him over to CPS… ignoring an obvious threat. Berrigan told you someone was watching them...following them. You wouldn’t listen…”  
“They wanted to keep the case active”  
“Of course they did! One of their people was seriously hurt.” She looked her boss in the eye “that doesn’t change the fact that there was a threat to his safety you chose to ignore because the case was low priority to you, and it cost us…”  
“YOU THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT!” Valdez’s face twisted as she shouted  
“I will not let you hurt a decent man just because you can’t deal with your own conscience.”  
“Decent man?” her voice rose sharply “DECENT MAN? He is a criminal!”  
“I know that, but he doesn’t deserve what Richards did to him. He doesn’t deserve what you are trying to do to him either.”  
“Do you even know half the things he’s done?”  
“I do actually… and I think he has more than paid for them these last few weeks.”  
*************************  
Stepping out of the cool car was a startling revelation to Nate. The air was warm and shimmering… far warmer than he had ever imagined the end of March being. Looking around he shuddered, everything seemed so foreign. They sat in front of a free standing house… with a yard. He stared at the large cactus beside the walkway. The broken stone where grass would have grown at any house he had ever seen….several sparse bushes scattered across the yard. The house itself was two stories of pale purple with a Spanish tile roof. Agent Randel led them inside quickly, closing out the heat behind them. The room was huge with a ceiling that rose to the roof.  
“The master bed room is on the ground floor with a bath room that has been appropriately modified for your current condition.” Randel was explaining “Bobby’s room is upstairs at the back of the house”  
“I don’t like him on a separate floor…” Neal protested “especially while I can’t get up there.”  
“Where he sleeps is up to you,” the response was smooth “we have taken the liberty of setting you up with a local doctor and arranging your first physical therapy appointment… Bobby is registered at Lincoln elementary… it’s about half a mile from here. He starts Monday.”  
“Thank you” Nate watched Neal smile at the Marshal.  
“There is an emergency ladder in Bobby’s room” the boy wished desperately this man would stop calling him Bobby…it made him feel unreal somehow. “I will carry his bags up there and demonstrate to him how to use it.”  
“Why do I need ladder?”   
“If there is a threat, Nate, you put out the ladder and go down it…immediately” Neal told him firmly.  
“You mean if that man finds us.” Nate shivered  
“Yes.”   
“You need to remember Mr. Hamilton, his name is Bobby” Randel interrupted “it is important that you forget your old identities.”  
“I know.” Neal smiled broadly and his demeanor seemed to pacify the man. Randel moved away… Nate assumed to get the bags. Neal looked at the boy with an intense expression.  
“You have to go by Bobby now… but Nathen, I don’t want you to forget who you are… Not now. Not ever. Do you understand that? You are Nathen Bryant, the son of Kimberly and Ryan Bryant. They are good people, who love you and would do anything to protect you. Never, never forget that.”   
************************   
The room was small… meant to be an office, it opened off the great room… Neal pushed the door closed and studied the tiny space… his closet at June’s was bigger. The walls were bland, off white and textured, but the windows were south facing, spilling natural light abundantly into all the corners. He didn’t need an office, but this would work nicely as a little studio… he could set up his easel there by the second window. He would need a rug to cover the carpet and shelves there along the north wall.  
He struggled with the plastic sheeting. It would have to do until he found a rug. Neal set up his easel, arranging it to suit him. He rummaged through the suitcase full of art supplies he brought with him until he found a brush that suited him and his acrylic paints. Applying it to the small canvas with an abandon he rarely allowed himself Neal let himself to relax for the first time since the move, his twisting painful thoughts drifting with the strokes of the brush.  
************************   
Peter studied the package, turning it slowly in his hand. It wasn’t large… a rectangle about twelve inches long by four inches wide and deep. Wrapped in plain brown paper, there was no return address, his own address printed in neat block letters. The box felt light. The post mark was from a small town in Texas. He considered dusting it for prints, but dozens of postal employees must have touched it along the way, rendering that idea pointless. Maybe he should let Mozzie look at it before he opened it. The agent shook his head sharply at that thought, trying to dislodge the paranoia that had been creeping into his thoughts during the two weeks since he watched Neal and Nathen loaded into a dark car and driven away. It was difficult not to worry though, when several times he was certain he had been followed. Now there was this mysterious package, it could be a bomb, or filled with poison… or... several unsavory possibilities ran through his mind.  
The little package did not seem overtly threatening however, and he was curious… with a deep sigh, he slid his finger under a fold of the paper and tugged gently. He paused, but nothing exploded so he continued carefully. The wrapping fell away and he gingerly lifted the lid, his body tense, ears straining for a telltale click or beep or any sound that would warn him to throw the box as far as he could and dive for cover. The only sounds in the room were his nervous breathing and the rapid thudding of his heart.   
Inside he found the last thing he expected, a small canvas rolled tightly. Suddenly he knew who sent him the gift. His hand trembled as he uncoiled the material. A swirl of blues, greys and blacks depicted a storm tossed seascape. The little light that trickled into the piece only accentuated the savage darkness. Peter smiled sadly. The work wasn’t visibly signed, but the message was clear. Neal and Nathen, though uprooted were settled somewhere because Neal had found time to paint… and they were nowhere near the sea…


	19. forgery

As art museums went it was far from the largest or most impressive he had ever been in, but he admitted the Phoenix Art Museum was decent… and had the advantage of being far outside the range available to him the last few years. Neal smiled a bit at that thought… one positive thing about his current situation, new museums and galleries. He would have to bring Nate here one day soon. The boy would get a kick out of the hands on children’s art studio upstairs. His smile widened as he pictured the attendant’s response to his son’s talent. Neal ran a hand through his hair. He really needed to stop thinking of himself as Nathen’s father. He was a temporary foster parent, nothing more… even if the boy did have his eyes... and smile. Ryan Bryant was Nate’s father, he needed to remember that, but he couldn’t help the pride that crept into his heart when the child brought home tests with perfect scores, or set up his own easel next to Neal’s and painted alongside him for hours…   
Neal felt some of the tension draining away. After the morning he had, being here surrounded by beauty was like salve in his wounds. The appointment with the orthopedic surgeon was discouraging…at least two more surgeries to repair his ankle, one of them a bone graft. Then the physical therapy session ended with the therapist looking him in the eye and telling him to expect at least three more months in the wheelchair before he could even try to stand. Even though the news wasn’t entirely unexpected it was still… frustrating. Neal realized he had been staring at the same painting for long time. He couldn’t quite place what about it had caught his eye  
He shifted his chair closer to painting, curiosity drawing him… George Romney wasn’t his favorite artist… He hadn’t spent that much time studying his work but, something felt… off as he gazed at the portrait of Anne Birch, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on… he leaned in as close to the work as he dared… no need to draw attention to his movements. Keeping his hands in his lap he scrutinized the portrait of the young woman in her salmon colored gown… suddenly he knew… he didn’t need to be an expert in Romney to see it…all of the paint was right for the period except the pearls on her wrist… that particular shade of white had not been created until 1800.  
Neal relaxed, thoughtful. He could leave it alone. He had no obligation to report a forgery, no real reason to either, right now. Well… there was Nate and setting a good example for the boy, considering his own past and his father’s….discouraging the Bennett DNA in Nate seemed incredibly important. It wouldn’t hurt to have an ally in local law enforcement either, of course on the other hand he really didn’t need an enemy on the other side. His eyes never left the painting scanning for a clue to who the forger might be. He definitely didn’t want to send trouble after a friend.   
Neal’s smile brightened suddenly even as a shiver ran down his spine. A tiny almost imperceptible black star, in the shadows under the plant at the bottom left of the piece. He knew under magnification the star would resemble a skull and cross bones. The investigation into this woman in New York hadn’t gone well…he was grateful it hadn’t been his case. Before she left town three paintings were missing and two men were dead. With that knowledge in mind he considered his options. Not that there was much of a decision to make…  
****************************   
Peter anxiously pulled the package from his mailbox and tore it open. They came every week… paintings, drawings every style and sizes, seascapes, mountains, portraits, but never anything that would give a clue to the identity or location of Neal or Nathen although one package contained a perfect life size granite sculpture of Nathen’s hand. They came in boxes of all shapes…sometimes large envelopes, each one from a different post mark…Colorado, Nevada California, Michigan, Oklahoma, Minnesota, Illinois, Delaware and others… never a note, just the art, reassuring him that his friend was ok.   
Todays was a portrait of a motherly looking Asian woman with a kind smile and spark of mischief in her eyes… drawn with a smooth hand in charcoal. She was captured in such detail he almost expected the dark eyes to blink. Peter had to admit he was curious who this woman was.   
“Agent Burke?” Agent Williams startled him out of his thoughts.  
“How can I help you?”  
“Actually I was hoping I could help you…” she looked nervous and disappointed  
“Help me…” he looked at her closely “do what exactly?”  
“Find Johnny Richards.” her gaze met his unwavering “I know you are looking for him.”  
“I was officially removed from the case.”  
“I was too. Valdez doesn’t seem interested in finding him… she is fixated on Caffrey. Nothing I say gets through and no one else is saying anything. I’m afraid she is losing her grip.”  
“She is in charge of the case and the team… they wouldn’t.”  
“I want Lenny’s killer brought to justice. I know you want to find him too.”  
“I do.” He confirmed. “But you could get in trouble for investigating a case you were removed from.”  
“Do I look like I care?!” Jennifer snapped “Lenny has been dead two months! And the official team is getting nowhere. He deserves justice… Melinda and Davy deserve closure.”  
“Yes they do.” He smiled at her “Yes they do.”   
“So whatever you and your team are doing … off the record… I want in.”  
************************  
Karl Young strode into the second floor gallery in the Phoenix art museum. The FBI office in Phoenix didn’t get many art theft cases. He wasn’t exactly an expert on cultural things. He could appreciate a nice painting as well as the next guy, but he wasn’t sure how he found himself volunteered for this. The nervous curator fluttered up to him.   
“So you have a missing painting.”  
“It’s not missing… exactly” the little man fidgeted not quite meeting Karl’s eye.   
“What exactly does that mean?”  
“It means” the voice that broke into their conversation was soft…calm and slightly breathy. “That is not really Anne Birch” Karl spun to face the man and stopped short as his gaze fell on the slim dark haired young man who appeared to be lounging casually in a wheelchair, his right hand raised to point to the picture in the frame near his head. His startlingly blue eyes met Karl’s with intelligence and amusement.  
“How do you know that?”  
“We are waiting for the authenticator to confirm his claims.”  
“It is a forgery” the man assured “come here… look closely at the plant in the foreground… there is a tiny black and white star in the shadow. If you look at it under magnification it will make a skull and cross bones… it’s a signature, agent…”  
“Young… whose signature?” He focused on the man in front of him, trying to get a read on his expression, ignoring for the moment the jittery curator. “How do you recognize it? Who are you?”  
“Michael Hamilton.” The young man looked up at him, clearly trying to read him as well. “I’ve seen it before…”something dark flickered in those eyes. “Her name is Alicia Clayton…”  
“How do you know her?”   
“I never met her in person” again that glimmer of something “but she is dangerous… if you get a lead on her… wear a vest.” His jaw clenched slightly “she doesn’t like men much… especially not Feds.”


	20. alliance

“It’s probably nothing”, Karl thought, as he ran the name, he doubted how much stock he should put in information provided by the mysterious young man whose only request in exchange for his knowledge was that Karl keep his name out of the official record. That struck Agent Young as peculiar…   
Alicia Clayton did bring up a case file. The woman had hit Boston, New York, L.A. and Seattle. Each time three paintings went missing, replaced by an exquisite forgery marked by a tiny star shaped skull and cross bones. Her dislike for men was evident too. A male museum guard in Seattle was shot, while a female was simply locked in a closet… In New York she had almost been caught, three men had been shot and two of them died when NYPD and the FBI thought they had her cornered. Now according to Young’s witness she was here in Phoenix. He wondered what else the man knew about Clayton. He glanced at his note book, Mr. Hamilton was reluctant to offer his number and address, but he had finally consented. It couldn’t hurt to pay him a visit. Young smiled.  
Hitting seventy-five on the highway, it only took half an hour to drive to the Mesa address. The yard was neatly kept and side walk and drive way swept clean, even after last night’s dust storm. He wondered briefly how Hamilton managed it in his wheel chair, but pushed the thought aside as he rang the bell. He waited several seconds before he heard the voice call out.   
“Who is it?”  
“Agent Young, FBI” he called back as the door swung open suddenly, surprising him.  
“I wondered how long it would take for you to show up.” Hamilton said over his shoulder as he spun the chair with easy grace. He smiled softly… his eyes slightly sad. “Come on in.” his whole demeanor radiated casual confidence.   
“I’m not intruding?”  
“Not at all… I was just making dinner.” He turned toward the kitchen, with a wave toward the bar stools at the counter. “Have a seat Agent… Young, wasn’t it? Can I get you a drink? No beer on duty, right? Coffee maybe?”  
“Coffee would be good, thanks.” He watched the man move surely, preparing the coffee. “I want to ask what you about Alicia Clayton. What you know about her?”  
“I know she’s dangerous” Hamilton frowned “and I doubt she’s left town.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Somethings are better left to the imagination.”  
“If you know something that can help me…”  
“As I said before I’ve never met her, but I know her reputation…” he hesitated “she’s hit other cities… always forges and steals three paintings… paintings by men she apparently doesn’t believe deserve their fame.”  
“Always three?  
“Always three.” The sharpest blue eyes he ever saw seemed to be sizing him up “and this appears to be her first here… though I could be wrong.”  
“If it is there’s a window to catch her?”  
“She waits about a month between jobs.”   
“What is her problem with men?”  
“I don’t know for sure.” Hamilton shrugged, his blue eyes glinting conspiratorially as he continued. “There are rumors of course…”  
“What sort of rumors?”  
“That’s not really relevant to your case.”  
“I suppose not…” curiosity made him grin “but there must be a h*** of a story there.”  
“I’m sure there is.” The young man agreed “I also heard” he continued “she likes high end apartments that offer month to month leases instead of hotels… I‘m going to bet there aren’t many of those in the area.”  
“I’m going to bet you’re right.” Karl opened his mouth to ask another question, but at that moment the door slammed open in the wake of a small dark haired hurricane.  
“S̄wạs̄dī ph̀x!” the boy called happily as he tossed his back pack on the coat rack and kicked his shoes off by the door.   
“S̄wạs̄dī dĕk” Hamilton returned his face smoothing into a brilliant smile filled with deep affection. “How was Mrs. Faueug Fung today?”  
“She is good, she gave me worms…” the kid grinned and Karl noticed he had eyes the same startling shade as his father. “She said she wants to have us for dinner soon. She let me draw her grapefruit tree… and I helped with her garden. I picked peppers… they are suuuuper hot!”  
“Speaking of dinner” Hamilton waved the kid toward the stairs “Go. Wash up…” the boy swirled away leaving startling silence behind him…  
“Cute kid.” Karl observed “I didn’t realize you were married”  
“I’m not. Bobby’s mother is… dead.” The words came out slightly strained indicating it was a painful memory and Karl thought it might be best to leave the wound alone. He couldn’t help wondering if her death had anything to do with what ever put the man in the chair… but for now he kept his questions to himself.   
“I appreciate your help.” He rose to leave  
“If you need anything else…” the offer hung in the air a moment   
“I might actually” Karl admitted “I’m a bit out of my zone… out here we spend more time chasing coyotes than art thieves.”  
“Coyotes?” the young man raised his eyebrows questioningly… “The FBI chases coyotes…?” he shook his head briefly looking slightly amused.  
“Human smugglers… run people across the border.”  
“Would have thought they were border patrol’s problem.”  
“Mostly they are, except when they hold their cargo until family members can pay their demands… or they keep them in sweat shops.” Karl looked grim “It’s an ugly business.”  
“Making a profit at the cost of human lives always is.” Something flickered in Hamilton’s eyes… something painful Karl thought, a haunted look of pure horror.  
***************************   
Peter stretched… time to get up and get coffee, he decided, the file in front of him was starting to blur. Walking out of his office and down the stairs he kept his eyes carefully ahead, not pausing to look at the empty desk… the empty desk that taunted him mercilessly, that reminded him he still couldn’t bring Neal home. Every day that passed without finding Richards felt like he was failing his friend. There had been leads… leads that were carefully followed, but all of them led to nowhere.  
He wondered how Neal and the boy were faring… wondered how the younger man was healing, the last time he saw him he had still been so pale and in so much pain. He wondered how Nathen was holding up under the trauma the little boy had been through and how Neal was adapting to fatherhood. He wondered if his friend had forgiven him for sending him into WITSEC… he hadn’t missed the coolness in Neal’s demeanor before he left. Neal didn’t trust the Marshals and he had manipulated the younger man into going with them against his will. Peter didn’t blame him for being angry.   
He sighed and filled his mug with coffee and headed back to his office, it was better than the dreams about his friend hanging there in that dark filthy room... the moisture seeping down the walls and the blood seeping from his lips into his eyes... Peter shook that thought away, picturing instead Neal, where ever he was, annoying his therapist as he healed.  
He stopped… someone was in his office. Hurrying up the stairs he found Agent Mills standing against the wall, but Peter was thought he looked nervous.  
“Looking for something?”  
“The Hendrickson file? Jones said he brought it up here…” Peter grabbed the folder from its place on top of the pile and handed it to the young man. After a moment’s hesitation the boy turned and rushed from the room. Peter smiled, he could almost hear Neal’s comments about him intimidating the probies. A light knock brought him back to reality. Williams stood in the doorway.  
“Thought you would want to know Valdez got a call from Mrs. Richards.”  
“Really?” This could be a lead, he thought.  
“Johnny contacted their son. Called him from a burner phone last night.”  
“Did she happen to say what he said?”  
“He wanted Kevin to join him.”  
“How did the boy react?”  
“Told him he wasn’t interested… at least according to his mom.”   
“Still couldn’t hurt to keep an eye on the boy for a while.  
“Yes sir.” She smiled “that’s what I was thinking.”  
****************************   
He glared at the canvas, his own words echoing in his mind. He had easily condemned the smugglers profiting from human suffering but he… he really wasn’t any different. For twenty thousand dollars he caused a child’s death. He tried to concentrate on the painting, but his hand shook with the horror of his guilt. In fury he splashed an angry swipe of paint across the canvas, again and again and again until the tears came. “Murderer …murderer… murderer!” his mind screamed at him. Sobbing, his angry stokes turned to grief stricken, broken little lines waving across the painting. Knowing he destroyed her, not just the girl though, but her entire family torn him apart. Johnny had been a gentle man with a bright smile, but now he was a sadistic monster. Her mother left alone to bear her grief and her little brother… what happened to him… and it was all his fault. He shuddered, he only met her once and he still managed to crumble not only her life, but her world as well. No wonder Peter sent him away. He wondered if his friend would ever forgive him. He hadn’t missed the agent’s distant behavior before he left New York. Peter couldn’t bear to be associated with what he’d done and Neal didn’t blame him for being disgusted.  
Suddenly remembering her face was incredibly important. He focused on her smile as she landed in the dusty carpets. Cleaning his brush he changed his technique. Slowly as he recalled the swirl of the long brown hair, the flash of pale green eyes, and the joyful quirk of her grin they took shape under his hand in stark brilliant reality. He poured his despair into the picture until the girl seemed alive again in the dimming room.   
“Ph̀x?” the little voice pulled him back to the present. He smiled at Nate’s creativity. Uncertain what to call his extra dad when they first moved the little boy had taken up calling him Ph̀x, Thai for dad, shortly after meeting their sweet motherly Thai neighbor. He looked at the child now, his hair wet from the shower and his pajama top buttoned askew. His throbbing raw heart warmed at the sight “Who’s that?” he pointed at Meagan Richards’ portrait on the easel.  
“A little girl I met once.”  
“She’s pretty”  
“Yes she was.” The sadness caught in his throat choking him.  
“Ph̀x?” the big blue eyes regarded him seriously “are you ok?” Neal nodded and forced his smile back in place.  
“All ready for bed?” he asked. The boy nodded holding out the copy of “Treasure Island” they were reading together.   
“Oh you want me to read to you… is that it?  
“Yes.”  
“You washed your hair?”  
“Of course” the boy rolled his eyes  
“Brushed your teeth?”  
“Ph̀x!” Nate pleaded. Grinning, he re-buttoned the boy’s shirt, trying not to smear oil paint on the ninja turtles. Then Neal wiped the paint off his hands and dropped his brushes in to soak before drawing the boy into his lap and tousling the damp curls that brushed his cheek…  
“I had scarce gained a position on the bowsprit when the flying jib flapped and filled upon the other tack, with a report like a gun…” he began reading where they left off. With an effort he didn’t look over his shoulder at the deeply realistic face set against a wildly abstract background.


	21. ideas

They followed the boy for almost two weeks before he led them to anything interesting. Williams tried to convince Valdez that Richards’ son was a good lead, but the woman merely sneered at her that her inexperience and recent trauma, coupled with her grief were clouding her judgement. She received assurances that the case was being handled and that their official investigators were following up on real leads instead of innocent victims. Jennifer almost laughed in the woman’s face at that.  
Peter took the neglected lead to Hughes who quietly reminded him it was not his case to investigate.   
“Of course I don’t control what my agents do on their own time.” He said with a faint smile and a small shrug. “And at this point I would back any break in the case that cost the FBI two good men.”  
They split the time between the five of them, four agents and one strange little man.  
It was a warm drizzly Saturday morning in mid- June that he finally led them to his dad at the old carpet factory Richards used seven years ago. Watching from a distance she recognized him, her mind instantly back in that alley nearly three months ago. Richards turning calmly from the small boy at Lenny’s command to drop the weapon, his expression unchanging as he swung the weapon up and fired. Lenny collapsing in a heap at her feet… his unfocused eyes filled with shock and pain. Jennifer shook her head pushing her memory to happier memories of her friend just the way Neal showed her. She turned her attention back to the man walking in the same side door his son used just minutes before, flanked by his two goons. Jennifer smiled grimly and she gripped her phone hands trembling slightly as she dialed.  
“Peter.” She still hesitated to use a senior agent’s first name, but his entire team did it… “He’s here… Richards is meeting Kevin at the factory he used to do business in” she told him, hurriedly slipping out of her car to peak through the door. She watched Richards hug his son, the boy grinning brightly. She couldn’t hear the words, but the teenager’s expression spoke volumes. Snapping a few pictures, she felt for the kid. She started to draw back then… back up would arrive shortly and this nightmare would be over. She would be able to look Melinda in the eye and tell her they got Lenny’s murderer in custody. They could finally close this this terrible chapter of their lives.  
Suddenly Johnny Richards grabbed his phone, answering curtly. His voice was sharp… his movements suddenly quick. Hanging up he spoke to the boy seeming to encourage him to do something. She saw the kid nod and abruptly all of them were rushing toward the exit. Jennifer fell back looking over her shoulder for back up… no one was in sight. They couldn’t get away. She couldn’t let him get away. Pulling her weapon, she waited for the four men pressing her slim body close beside the door.   
****************************   
He could tell Nate was upset… the little boy bursting through the door with unshed tears in his eyes and rushing for the stairs.   
“Nathen?” he called gently “Are you ok?”  
“I’m not Nathen anymore.” The child glared at him his tears spilling over. “People liked Nathen.”  
“Come here” Neal beckoned, hoping he wouldn’t continue his flight, the second floor might as well have been the moon. To his relief the boy turned and shuffled back down to him, blue eyes on the floor. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”  
“No one likes me.” The tears overflowed   
“What happened, Nate?”  
“Nick said I was a stupid gringo… and everyone laughed at me, Ph̀x.” His lip trembled as he swiped at his cheeks.  
“Nate you are not by any means stupid. Why would he say that?”  
“I don’t know. I was talking to Sonja. She’s my friend, at least I thought she was, but he got mad and… and…” he looked up with crystal drops clinging to his dark lashes “and she laughed too… like everybody else.” His gaze dropped to his feet “I really miss being Nathen.”  
“You look at me. Out there, in front of everyone you have to be Bobby Hamilton, but here just you and me, you will always be Nathen Bryant … always.” He gently lay his and on the little boy’s shoulder turning him toward the small studio. Inside he set up two canvases, prepared his pallet and passed his son the paint. “Tell me all about the people who liked Nathen… your mom and dad… your friends, your teachers… keep your mind on them.” For a long time he listened to the boy talking animatedly as they lost themselves in the art, until the little voice suddenly fell silent. Neal turned at the sound of a tiny sob. The child’s broken little voice tore at his heart but the words shocked him.  
“It’s all my fault.”  
“What’s your fault?”  
“All of this… if I had run… if I had screamed… if he hadn’t taken me, you wouldn’t be hurt. Mama and daddy wouldn’t be in jail. That FBI man wouldn’t be dead… It’s all my fault” Neal stared at the small face gazing up at him, to stunned to speak for a moment. The thought that his son would blame himself when he was so clearly an innocent victim had never ever occurred to him.   
“Nate…” he began in a strangled voice his own guilt rising to the surface. “Nathen none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? Johnny did this to you and your family because of me…”  
“But I should have…”  
“No, but’s Nate.” Neal looked at him. Time to be honest. He steeled himself. He would miss the love and respect in Nathen’s eyes, but he had to tell him. The thought of the little boy feeling guilty all this time… he shuddered. “I did this Nate. I talked Johnny into doing something that made him lose his job…” he choked, not wanting to say the next words “Then his little girl got sick… they didn’t take her to the doctor because…” he swallowed hard “ she died, Nathen because of me. This is my fault and I am so, so sorry.” He hung his head unable to face the revulsion and accusation he knew would color the boy’s eyes now.   
“Ph̀x …”the small hand slipped into his “last year my best friend wanted me to pick all of Mrs. Davis’ tulips… when I did mama said it wasn’t Gabe’s fault I was in trouble because I knew it would get me in trouble and I still did it… did he know he would get in trouble if he did what you wanted?” Neal raised his gaze to meet Nathen’s and forced a small stiff smile…if only it was that simple, but he knew better, knew his own guilt… eventually Nathen would too, but for now he was grateful for the child’s simple trust.   
*********************************  
It was dark as he rang the doorbell… almost eleven o’clock the intense heat of a desert summer day dissipating into the cool dry night, carried away by the soft breeze. He glanced up at the clear sky and the stars twinkling down at him, it would have been a beautiful night, if he didn’t know a security guard at the Scottsdale art museum was fighting for his life after another strike from their man hating forger.  
He hoped he wasn’t waking Mike, but he needed his help. Karl shook his head, he’d known the man less than a month, but he was almost certain that wasn’t his name just as he was sure Mike had never taught English Literature. The young man knew too much about crime and criminals… and FBI procedure. He was also convinced it wasn’t a car accident that caused the extensive injuries the man was recovering from. His best guess, Mike was an agent who had a case go south… badly apparently, forcing him and his son into hiding, maybe killing the boy’s mother as well. Karl decided he didn’t need to know, didn’t even want to know. He certainly wasn’t going to risk blowing the guy’s cover because he was curious. He could ignore the nagging questions about their past, but he did need Mike’s help. So here he stood ringing his doorbell in the middle of the night.  
“Little late for a social call, isn’t it Karl?” he grinned as he swung the door open “this is about Alicia, I assume?”  
“It is.” Karl shifted his weight quietly waiting for an invitation  
“Come in.” Mike smiled a bit a strange trace of irony in his expression, leading the way to a room clearly intended to be an office. Obviously, Karl thought, looking at the neatly organized shelves of paint, thinner and clay, Mike Hamilton had other ideas. “I was just working on a project to help clear my head. I take it the apartment idea didn’t pan out?”  
“There are seven complexes in the Phoenix metro area that meet the criteria you outlined… and with no idea what this woman looks like…” he sighed “She struck again in Scottsdale… stabbed a guard.”   
The young man dropped his eyes a moment then suddenly his gaze flicked up “She’ll need a fence…” he smiled “ given her dislike of the male gender… how many high end female fences do you know of in the area.”  
“That’s a good idea.” He grinned “there can’t be that many. I’ll see if we can’t get someone on the ones we know of.” He glanced at the painting on the easel. It wasn’t large, but it did draw the eye. “That’s pretty good… not that I’m an art expert or anything but… I like it”  
“Thanks.” Mike turned to cleaning his brushes for a long moment an awkward silence fell neither man sure what to say. “Hey Karl…?” the young man spoke softly “I’ve been thinking about those coyotes… I think I might have an idea.”


	22. hunting

He sat at the faded linoleum counter… twisting the bar stool slightly, trying to ignore the dull ache in his hips. Glancing around the room, blue eyes observed everyone who came and went as he nursed his third cup of strong bitter truck stop coffee. Waiting had never been his favorite thing especially if it involved sitting still. His eyes traveled to the bank of windows beyond the semis and tourists and huge black top parking lot… the sun was rising, brilliant and golden in a flaming red and impossibly blue sky, it peaked over jagged indigo shadowed mountains. Neal smiled… he would miss the dessert sunrises… sunsets too, and there was just something about the golden fury of a sandstorm sweeping across the sky and land that captured his artist’s imagination. Hard to believe that in just three months he had become rather fond of the harsh landscape… not the heat though… definitely not the heat, he thought as the door opened allowing a bit of the oven temperatured wind to whip inside. He waited for a slim dark haired man in faded designer jeans and western cut shirt to cross the diner and sink into a booth near the back. Neal grinned as his eyes caught a glimpse of Gabriel’s shoes. Worn and ragged off brand cross trainers… definitely not an example of his work. Neal had only known Gabe about a month, but he already knew the kid had a deep seated respect for life and that was what he needed right now.  
Neal slid into his chair casually a few minutes later and joined him at the booth.  
“How’s business?”  
“Be better if the feds would stop sniffing around.” The young man shrugged his brown eyes resigned “you said you might have a way to make that happen.”  
“I might.” Neal let it hang a moment watching the kid… “I understand your mother worked in a factory… before you were born.”   
“Factory!” the man hissed “it was a prison… practically slave labor! To call it a factory would be like calling … that man kept her locked up in his sweat shop for three years. Only a monster would run a place like that!”  
“I thought you might feel that way.” Neal grinned “Yeah, Gabe I think I have a way to get the Feds off your back… and get a lot of people out of a place like that…”  
“What do you want me to do?”  
“You are a business man aren’t you? Those designer shoes don’t make themselves, do they?”  
“No they don’t? What are you hinting at? If you think I would ever…”  
“Maybe you should. Maybe you want to expand your business… maybe you want to talk to a specific Coyote and arrange to “borrow” some of his cargo…”  
“I would rather die than do that… the very thought of it makes me sick! Gabe glared at him but Neal’s grin just widened.  
“Did I forget to mention the part where you wear an FBI wire…?”  
“You’re a Fed?” brown eyes blazed at him and Neal raised his hands to placate.  
“I’m not…” he kept his eyes steady “but I have a friend who is. He is extremely interested in taking down this sweat shop and Gabe he is willing… to ensure the FBI forgets everything they ever knew about your shoe business if you will do this.”  
“Yeah… he’ll stick by that deal.” The sarcasm oozed from the words  
“He will, I’ll personally guarantee it.” Neal leaned back and allowed Gabe to consider his options…   
“How can you promise?”  
“He reminds me of a very good friend.”   
“Why don’t they get an agent to handle this?”  
“Because FBI agents don’t blend into our world as smoothly as they think they do…” the kid sighed.  
“I’ll think about it.”  
“Give me a call when you decide.”   
“I will” the younger man downed his coffee and rose to leave   
Neal knew he had won. Now about that other thing… he looked around the room until he found a trucker sipping coffee and moved to join him…  
“Excuse me, sir could you do me a favor?”  
“Depends on what it is, son.” Wariness tinted the words  
“I want you to send this package for me? Not today, but wherever you are at noon two days from now…” the older man eyed the box doubtfully. “It’s nothing dangerous… I’ve already paid for the postage and I’ll give you forty dollars for your trouble.”  
The man considered a moment then nodded   
“If that thing blows up…”  
“It won’t”  
“Fine.”  
“Thank you so much!”   
************************* 

She held her breath… waiting. Waiting for the door to fly open… waiting for the man who murdered her partner to step into her sights. Waited for him to notice her, turn and fire. Jennifer held her breath trembling fingers clutching her weapon tightly, picturing Lenny’s face as the life left him. The urge to kill Richards roaring in her ears, she shifted her grip on her handgun and waited. Time seemed frozen. Her eyes never left the door but it didn’t open. Behind her she heard a commotion car doors slamming and running footsteps. A dozen agents moving into view. She caught sight of Valdez, giving her a look of disbelieving annoyance before turning her attention back to the young agent at her elbow who managed a look of absolute distain for Jennifer despite his nervous demeanor.   
Peter was beside her now smiling tightly before the door was slammed open and they rushed inside… the echoing cavernous factory appeared empty, no sign of Richards or his son. Jennifer felt her cheeks burn as Valdez glared at her   
“You were removed from this case for a reason Williams. You are obsessed and you wasted valuable bureau resources today.”  
“But Richards was here.” Jennifer asserted   
“I don’t care what you thought you saw… I have an investigation to conduct.” Valdez turned to flounce away.  
“Agent Valdez!” Jennifer called her back “I have pictures.”  
“What?”  
“I have pictures of Johnny Richards and his son Kevin… here… today.” She held out her phone.  
“Let me see that!” Valdez snatched the phone flicking through the shots with a grunt. “Huh… so he was here. How did he know we were coming?” She studied Jennifer suspiciously “did you do something to tip him off?”   
“He got a call just before everyone ran. I hoped he would come out the same door he went in but… obviously not.” She sighed.  
“Are you implying that someone intentionally tipped him off?”  
“I am…”   
“Who?”  
“I have no idea who.” She dropped her defiant chin slightly.  
“So you have no proof… that is a pretty serious allegation without evidence.”  
“It may not be conclusive, but there is definitely circumstantial evidence.” Agent Jones broke in.   
“There is?”  
“He gets a call and splits just in time… not only today, but the day Neal was hurt the same thing happened.” Jones’s face was calm and thoughtful “can’t be a coincidence…” Valdez considered that her expression hardening at the mention of Caffrey, but her eyes quickly became thoughtful.   
********************************   
Neal lifted his eyebrow when his doorbell rang at eleven thirty that night. He knew who would be standing there and he moved to let him in. Karl grinned at him brightly   
“We did it… we caught Alicia!” Karl beamed “we followed your tip to watch some of the high end female fences in town! It worked… went off without a hitch… she never even had time to pull her weapon before we had the cuffs on her.”  
“That’s great!” Neal watched him “you did keep my name out of the paper work, right?”  
“That is the deal we made?”  
“Thanks” he could see the unasked questions in the other man’s eyes, but he couldn’t risk answering him.  
“I don’t renege on a deal.” He smiled a Neal and the young man met his eyes… for long moment there was silence.  
“I talked to my friend this morning…”  
“What did he say? Do we have our undercover operative?”  
“He just called about an hour ago…” He paused dramatically “He’ll do it. Gabe’s in”  
“That is great!” Karl flashed a bright smile beaming his excitement… in many ways Karl reminded him of Peter… a younger… much less experienced Peter but… he was caring dependable and smart. That earned him a few points with Neal.   
“He’s perfect for the roll”  
“Ok, so what is Gabe’s last name?”  
“I can’t tell you that… he trusts me. I will not burn that bridge” he watched the agent sigh and then straighten.  
“Fine… its fine” Karl’s smile widened “I’ll persuade him to tell me himself.   
Moving toward the door Karl glanced back and stopped   
“Thanks” even spoken over his shoulder it brought Neal’s smile rising up to his eyes, for a brief moment.


	23. forces of nature

Karl squirmed inwardly, keeping his body still as his mind worked quickly. This was a supremely crazy idea, not unheard of, but sending a young, nonviolent criminal into a hornets nest like this… he hoped it worked. The young man seemed more than willing, declaring firmly that operations like this should not exist, but the kid made faux designer shoes for a living… getting him involved with human trafficking was a gamble, a big gamble.   
Mike had been confident he could pull it off which meant “What, exactly?” Karl asked himself for the thousandth time. He barely knew the man, was certain Mike Hamilton was not his real name, and had no idea why he had left his past behind. That he had worked for the FBI was obvious, he knew too much about procedures to doubt that, but for all Karl knew he might have been a dirty agent, the kind that turn states evidence the moment they are cornered. For some reason though Mike didn’t strike him as that type. He did have some skill Karl conceded. It only took him a week to find the perfect man for the job and convince him to work with them, for immunity, of course, but his small scale shoe business was hardly a blip on their radar anyway… even if they had been investigating. It was like releasing a minnow to catch a school of sharks.   
He found himself wondering what it would have been like to work with Mike when he was actually on the job. If he could set this up on his own he must have been a force of nature when he had access to bureau resources. After all if today went as it should that would make the man responsible for two major arrests in less than a month… from his living room… in a wheel chair. Karl could only imagine what he was capable of at the top of his game.  
Gabe walked into view on the surveillance screen and the agent pulled his attention back to the job at hand. He listened intently as the young man offered payment for ten “employees”. He watched closely as the coyote grinned wolfishly.  
“I want to see the stock.” Gabe’s voice trembled just a bit, but he didn’t waver “to insure you aren’t pushing worn out, broken down merchandise on me.”  
“Sure… sure” the other man scowled, but he shoved Gabe toward the car. “I’ll take you to them. Costs extra to pick your own though…”   
“No problem man, no problem, like I said, business is booming.” The young man reassured him with a slightly nervous grin. As they drove away Karl continued to monitor the audio and pass directions to the driver… an hour later it was over. The coyote and three associates were in custody. Gabe had silently handed back the recorder before being sick in the nearby bushes… after that he walked away quickly.   
Karl turned to look into the twelve by twelve windowless storage unit, at the faces that looked up at him, peering out into the light nervously, painfully… forty- two pairs of eyes all different ages from squirming innocent toddlers to the grey haired wrinkled faces of the aged. He sympathized suddenly with the young criminal who had fled the sight. They watched his movements warily, features glistening and damp in the stifling heat of the metal room. The temperature outside hovered at a hundred seventeen and the interior of the unit felt considerably higher.  
“Get EMTS in here as soon as possible to check these people out, get water in here now… lots of it and forensics to go over this place from top to bottom!” he called out and several agents rushed away to comply.   
*****************************   
After the near miss of Richards the other day Peter was frustrated, beyond frustrated really. They had been so close, five minutes from having the man in custody, from all of this nightmare being a memory. Five minutes away from calling the marshals to bring Neal and Nathen home. Then he slipped through their fingers because someone called him… someone who knew they were coming… someone in this very office. The thought made him sick. That someone on his team was willing to sell out one of their own. He could barely stand to look around the office as his mind ran though the possibilities. Diana would never betray his trust… she could be eliminated as a suspect he was almost certain. Jones liked Neal, considered him a friend, he wouldn’t hurt him. Peter was confident of that, mostly. The rest… he sighed. That left two agents he could trust and a room full of suspects and that twisted a nauseating knot in his stomach.  
The first call maybe he could understand, but now… after they had seen what Richards did to Neal, after he murdered Lenny Thompson… He just couldn’t imagine any member of his team being that callous. Maybe one of Richards’ accomplices was monitoring their phone lines, he tried to convince himself, but he knew better. Peter walked quietly out of the office, he needed a break… needed to clear his head.  
Walking through the park he found his mind drifting. The latest package from Neal had arrived yesterday, an intense abstract swirl of color that made him think of a sunset somehow. It carried a postmark from Mississippi, when Neal came home he would have to ask him how he send the packages from so many different places… Peter smiled. He was grateful for the gifts even though he knew Neal was taking a certain risk to send them. They were a weekly message in a bottle that said “We are ok… and I don’t hate you.” The sheer number of them in his home though broke his heart a little, almost three months thirteen weeks. Elle was joking about needing to contact a gallery to get Neal an opening just to clear out some of the pieces. His phone rang, jarring him back to the present.  
“Burke.”  
“Peter?” there was a hint of a grin in Jones’ voice “you’re not going to believe this.”  
“What happened?”   
“Remember the Alicia Clayton case?”  
“I do.” Of course he did, that case had been a disaster. One police officer and one agent killed, another agent left paralyzed when they cornered her. “What about it?”  
“The Phoenix office has her in custody.”   
“They do? That is good news.” Not the news they had been waiting for, but it really was great news.  
“Legal is working on getting her extradited as we speak.”  
Peter grinned. The case had nothing to do with their current problem, but somehow it felt like a sign of good things to come.  
*********************************   
Neal hated waiting. He despised being so helpless. He felt so sick about talking Gabe into going into such a dangerous situation, under an agent he barely knew. All his research on Karl suggested he was one of the good guys and his instincts about people said that same, but it felt like it had been too long. Time seemed to have stopped. He tried to distract himself by taking Nate to the park, but they couldn’t stay long the heat drove them back in, despite the splash zone. Nate had been soaked when they left the park, but the blistering parched dessert wind had him dried off in the three blocks home. Now they were pulling out the paints in their tiny studio and Neal was trying not to seem distracted while the little boy chatted happily. A knock on his door pulled him from his grim thoughts.   
“How did it go?” he asked a very serious Karl before he stepped through the door.  
“We got them.” Karl smiled tightly “Your friend did great.”  
“Is he ok?”  
“He’s not hurt.” Neal’s heart uncoiled in relief. “A little sick to his stomach…” Karl shook his head “but I can’t say I blame him for that. Forty two people crammed in a windowless metal storage unit in this heat…”  
“I’m glad I didn’t see it.” Neal shuddered “Are they ok?”  
“Suffering serious heat exhaustion, but I think all of them will live… though whether they would have survived another day in there is anybody’s guess.” Karl smiled brightly at him “your plan saved their lives.”  
Neal nodded in relief. After a long moment “You need a drink?”  
“Couldn’t hurt.” Karl finally seemed to relax “afraid it will take several to get those faces out of my head… just glad they were all alive. Thank you Mike.” He grinned. Neal couldn’t resist returning the look  
Forty-two lives saved. Maybe … just maybe, this would help to atone for Meagan. He hoped so, but his conscience didn’t seem inclined to cut him any slack.


	24. found

Alicia Clayton’s transfer to New York had come though and he had escorted her from the airport to the women’s prison. Her icy glare made him immensely glad for the restraints that confined her. He was even more grateful when he handed custody of her over to the guards at the prison. Just the thought of that woman made him shiver.  
The file that came with her on the other hand, presented a different problem. The information if contained was definitely interesting. Agent Karl Young made the arrest after the first forgery was spotted by an informant who wished to remain anonymous. That had been enough to catch his eye… after all how many people could there be who could identify a forgery at a glance, would contact the FBI and would want to remain unnamed… it could not be a coincidence.  
He entered Agent Karl Young in the data base. A strained smile tugged at the young man’s lips… the last four months, starting with the Clayton arrest, his closure rates had steadily climbed. Young sited an unknown contact again and again. Forced to guess he would lay his money on a semi reformed con artist of his acquaintance as the mysterious informant. Which meant Caffrey was in Phoenix Arizona.   
He sighed and picked up the phone dialing a number he hadn’t called in three and a half months. This was wrong and he knew it, but there was no going back now. When Richards first contacted him nearly a year ago asking for information regarding his “old friend” Nick Halden it had seemed pretty innocent to the fresh out of Quantico agent. After that though, things had quickly spiraled out of control… first kidnapping a child and demanding a ridiculous ransom, then assaulting, almost killing the consultant. Worst of all, shooting two Agents, one of them fatally. Now there was no way out. Richards made it very clear, if he was arrested while Caffrey and his son were still breathing… well it wouldn’t end well for the young agent. He ground his teeth, his conscience jabbing at him violently. He didn’t have a choice… he didn’t, he told himself as he hit send, but he knew there was another option… he just couldn’t face the consequences of that one…. That probably made him a coward but…   
“Sir?” He said softly “I think I know where they might be.”  
*********************************   
Karl took the exit from the freeway, his thoughts still on the stack of case files on his passenger seat. In the dark he shook his head at the strangeness of the situation. Here he was driving across town, after his wife went to bed, to go over cases with a professed former English teacher. The last four months had been great for his career. His marriage? Well… he had a feeling Wendy was beginning to get the wrong impression, but after the way Mike reacted to finding out he was anonymously mentioned in the Clayton file he promised not to mention their conversations to anyone. He appreciated the help, but he hated the sneaking around to meet with the man.  
He glanced in the mirror. The car that exited behind him was still behind him. That was a bit strange. After four turns he found himself highly suspicious that the dark blue sedan was following him. That was probably ridiculous… wasn’t it? He turned down the dark residential street past the neighborhood park and splash pad, which made him think of his friend’s son.  
The kid was eight years old and like every little boy he knew loved to climb and explore, but this kid… he chuckled, this kid must be some sort of genius. In the four months he had known Mike and Bobby he had heard them converse in three different languages… not counting English. Though Mike frequently stopped his son to correct his grammar or pronunciation… it sounded to Karl like Bobby was picking them up really well. They were a peculiar family he thought, but they seemed really close.   
He glanced in his mirror again… as he pulled into their drive way. The blue car drove passed and pulled into a drive two houses down. The guy was just headed to the same street, it was just an unusual coincidence. Karl should have felt a bit foolish. Something still felt a bit off though… something nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t quite place it.  
He grabbed the box of files from the seat and strode to the familiar door. A quick knock brought the young man to the door.  
“You look tired.” Mike observed. “Rough week?”  
“Long week.” He sat the heavy box on the sleek coffee table. “I picked up seventeen new cases this week, and I have three that carried over from last week. Six of them I have pretty solid leads, but the rest…”  
“You have nothing.” Mike grinned mischievously.  
“I have nothing” the young agent admitted ruefully.  
“And you’d like me to take a look and see if I can spot something you missed.” He tried to sound annoyed, but his pride and curiosity shone in his blue eyes.  
“I would appreciate it if you have time.”  
“Well it’s eleven… we better get started.” Mike pulled out a folder, glanced at it with a chuckle “I’ll make coffee.”  
It was nearly two am when Karl left the house… with new leads on four more cases, to his relief the blue car was nowhere in sight.  
*********************************   
Neal grinned as he slowly shuffled out of the therapists’ office, the crutches were awkward and his legs trembled with six months of disuse, but he was walking out the door today. The thought made him want to laugh. He was alive and on his feet! The therapist said she expected him to make a full recovery… though walking without support was probably still months away. Looking at his broken pelvis, the doctor in New York hadn’t been sure, but now… His grin widened until his cheeks hurt.   
The walk to the car took a lot longer than it had in the wheelchair, but he didn’t mind at all, he chuckled. He bent carefully to ease his shaking form into the seat. He would have to hurry to beat Nate home from school. The kid was going to be thrilled.   
Something caught his eye… just a glimpse… a face that looked vaguely familiar in the corner of his gaze. Neal casually turned his head to get a better look. The big man turned between two cars just a bit too abruptly to be believable. Neal got a brief but clear look at that face… he definitely knew the man though he couldn’t remember clearly from where. The guy caused a sick uneasy feeling to settle in his gut and he shivered slightly as a chill ran up his spine even though the temperature still hovered around a hundred in late September.   
He shook his head to clear the disturbing thoughts from his head. He needed to hurry. He had promised Nate a quick trip to Arizona Mills before they went to the play tonight. He wanted to get home and change out of his workout clothes.  
An hour later Neal and his beaming son pulled out of their drive way. Everything seemed right… this moment, he thought, if we could just stay in this moment life would be perfect. No, his mind reminded him painfully, if he could have this moment in New York it would be perfect. He realized with a start it had been several days since he had thought about home… not that he really ever expected to get to go back. Peter couldn’t stand to look at him the last time they spoke, knowing what Neal had done, why would he want to bring him back?   
Something caught his eye again. The blue rental car four cars behind him had made the last three turns behind him. That nervous feeling in his gut was back. Neal swallowed hard, he wasn’t afraid exactly, but the thought of anymore of his old acquaintances ever laying eyes on Nate made him feel sick.   
“Ph̀x?” the little voice sounded worried “is something wrong?”  
“Everything is fine, Nate” he reassured the boy pulling his attention from the ominous blue car. No reason to worry his son just yet.  
“We’re going to have fun tonight, right?” the child smiled tentatively at him  
“We are going to have fun.” He confirmed, plastering a smile over his nerves. It was probably nothing anyway.  
******************************   
He lay shivering in the dark, the memory of the dream swarming through his mind. He could feel the blows of the bat on his body again… feel the pain as his shattered ankle pulled against the bindings that suspended him above the floor… the blood choking off his airway drowning him. He could see Johnny Richard’s face twisted with rage as he swung the bat and behind him…behind him two huge thugs, arms folded, faces grinning.  
Neal rolled over, punching his pillow, trying to sleep, to switch off his swirling thoughts. A look at the clock on his bedside table told him it was 3:52 am. He sighed. He was exhausted, but sleep was determined to remain elusive. Something nudged at his mind…keeping it alert.  
Slipping out of bed and fumbling for his crutches, he stumbled to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. Hopefully it would lull him to sleep. He slumped onto a stool at the counter and dropped his chin into his hand. His mind wandered back to the dream… the memory.   
Suddenly he sat up straight, trembling violently. The man in the parking lot! He was one of Richards’ muscle... THEY FOUND US!


	25. Hold on

This was quite possibly the strangest phone call he ever made, Karl thought, and he hadn’t even dialed yet. It was an official Bureau number… which seemed to confirm his theory about Mike’s past. As did the admission that Mike Hamilton was not his real name. The early morning call from his friend had woke him from a pleasant dream and pulled him away from his beautiful wife. An almost panicky edge colored the usually calm voice in an unfamiliar way. It was the desperation in the man’s tone that had him making the call to the New York office. He wondered why Mike didn’t just make the call himself, but his friend didn’t seem inclined to explain that part. When his finger pressed send he waited.  
“Burke.”  
“This is agent Karl Young,” he began a bit uncertainly “and I have a message for you.”  
“A message… from who?” the man on the other end sounded politely detached. This is where it got a little strange.  
“Dan Brooks says he’s… um… he’s grown a tail” Karl shook his head slightly “and that he could use a friend.” Silence…he waited for the agent on the line to say something… anything to that. A sudden intake of breath said that man hadn’t hung up, but the silence stretched for a long moment.  
“Where are you?” The man’s voice sounded choked … and frightened.  
“I’m in the Phoenix office… did I say something wrong?”  
“No.” he was getting control back now “Tell Dan, hang in there, Sundance, a friend is coming.” He hesitated “do you have an address for Mr. Brooks?”   
“I can do that, but…”  
“Is he…” the voice sounded strangled again “is he alright?”  
“Yes… but...” Karl sighed “I don’t suppose you can tell me what this all about?”  
“Not really.” Authority seeped into Burke’s distant voice. “But I assume you know the man who sent the message.”  
“I do.”  
“Keep him safe until I get there.”  
“I can do that.”  
“Without drawing attention to him… in case they haven’t positively ID’ed him yet.”  
“Done.” Karl drew a deep breath “He has a kid with him, you know?”  
“I do.” Burke sounded like he smiled briefly “Both of them in one piece would be very good. About that address…”  
******************************   
Peter hung up before he realized what it was he heard in the young agent’s voice… there was confusion, but there was also concern, deep concern. Whoever this man was Neal had definitely gotten under his skin… Peter hoped briefly that the man hadn’t taken advantage of the young agent’s kindness to pull off something illegal. He smiled… at this point he almost didn’t care, as long as Neal came home safely.  
Which led back to the troubling problem of who the leak was and how they knew how to find a protected witness in Phoenix… He sighed.   
None of that mattered at the moment. He needed a flight. Stepping to the door he motioned for Jones and Diana to join him, then sank back into his chair. He was silent as the two agents moved into the office. With a glance at his face Diana turned and quietly closed the door.  
“Peter?” Jones ask “what happened?”  
“I just got a message from Neal.” He watched them closely.  
“That’s great… isn’t it?”  
“He had an agent from the Phoenix field office call me. He’s in trouble… someone is following him.”  
“Neal had an FBI agent in Arizona call you? Was he under arrest?” Diana sounded slightly disbelieving. Peter smiled despite himself.  
“Not that Agent Young mentioned.”  
“So Neal just walked up to an agent and told him ‘I need you to call someone in New York’ doesn’t exactly sound like Caffrey. Then again…”  
“I’m sure it was more complicated than that.”  
“It always is with Neal. “ Jones said quietly   
“If someone is following him,” Peter redirected the conversation back to the problem “that probably means Richards found him.”  
“Which means he’s in real danger.” Diana confirmed “Why didn’t he contact the Marshals.”  
“Maybe he did,” Peter sighed “but he isn’t going to trust them. Not with Nathen’s safety.”  
“You’re probably right about that.” Jones agreed “So what do we do now?”  
“Boss?” Diana interrupted before he could answer “Did you say he contacted you from Phoenix?”  
“I did… why?”  
“Wasn’t that where Alicia Clayton was transferred from last week…?”  
“It was.” Jones confirmed “and our team handled the transfer on this end…if there was something in her file…”  
“Who handled the exchange… which agents?”  
“I’ll get a list” Diana said “and the Clayton file.”  
“Thank you. Pull in Williams if you need help.” Peter rose then “I need to be in Arizona.” Jones raised his eyebrows  
“I think you mean we need to be in Arizona” he grinned  
“I can’t ask you to-.”  
“You aren’t asking … but you will need back up”  
**********************************   
He resisted the urge to smash the small clay sculpture that was supposed to be taking shape under his hands. It would have helped if the appendages would stop trembling. He glanced at Nathen who, lost in the moment, seemed to enjoying his unexpected day off from school. The image of the dirty tear streaked little face looking up at him from the floor of that dark room filled Neal’s mind. The bruise on the small pale cheek, the tears shining in huge blue eyes filled with terror, the way the child had curled into himself trying to hide with nowhere to go… “Rest assured, I will find the boy and when I do… I will kill him too.” Richards’ voice had been icy calm… Neal shivered at the memory. He wasn’t letting the child out of his sight. It was better that he miss a few days of school than he be abducted from the playground. The cold knot in Neal’s stomach tightened at the thought.   
The four am call to the Marshals had not inspired his confidence. The polite, but slightly disinterested voice on the line had asked for his identification number, clicked a few buttons, listened half- heartedly as he explained about his tail, assured him the agency would investigate the situation and if a threat was determined to exist he and Nathen would be relocated… a Marshal would be by later to obtain details of what he actually saw. Translation, Neal thought grimly, you are being paranoid, but we will look into it and just in case you aren’t crazy… we will move you, assuming you aren’t dead by then. He really didn’t trust the marshals…  
His six o’clock call to Karl had been more comforting, even though he couldn’t tell him everything. The agent had agreed to put in his call to New York without hesitation… had even offered to come over and provide what protection he could. While the thought of an armed FBI agent as a guard never sounded so good, Neal had no intention of pulling Karl any farther into this mess. He would not be responsible for endangering his life. One agent was already dead because of Richards’ vendetta, he wasn’t going risk losing a friend to it. “Then why did you have him call, Peter?” a nagging little voice in the back of his mind asked repeatedly. He closed his eyes. His left ankle twinged with the memory of the blows that shattered his anklet… and the bone underneath. The feeling of helplessness he felt hanging alone in that basement came back to him… taking his breath away. It wasn’t the pain of that hour that haunted his dreams… it was the knowledge that he was going to die… alone…   
That’s what it boiled down to, he didn’t really care if Richards killed him… he probably deserved it, but he wanted Peter here, so he would not be alone at the end, so he would know someone cared.   
Neal jumped… the pounding on the front door struck him like a blow.  
*************************   
Karl smiled. While his conversation with Burke hadn’t been exactly enlightening on the details of Mike’s past… it had confirmed a few things. He felt like he was finally cracking the shell that surrounded his friend. He was extremely curious about the man that lay underneath that protection…   
He stepped out of his car and hurried up the walk. Mike told him to stay away… Burke told him to keep Mike and Bobby safe… not Mike, he thought suddenly, Dan… Dan Brooks was the name the man gave him to tell Burke. Karl grinned as he pounded on the door, but when his eyes fell on a new unfamiliar car two houses up the street, his grin faded quickly… someone was definitely watching the house. It suddenly seemed to take too long for the door to swing open.  
“Hey.” Worried blue eyes looked him up and down before continuing, the young man coiled like a spring. “I thought I told you didn’t have to come.”  
“Yeah well…” Karl shrugged “your friend in New York told me to keep you in one piece.”  
“You made the call.” Mike… Dan’s relief was tangible. “What did he say?”  
“He said.” Karl stepped into the room and closed the door with one last dark look at the car up the street. Mike locked both locks hastily. “Tell you ‘hang on, Sundance, a friend is coming.” He was surprised by the brilliant easy grin that spread across the young man’s face. The look was almost delighted laugher and such relief…  
“Thank you, Karl” he moved slowly leaning heavily on the crutches though he tried to hide the exhaustion that seemed to hit him then. “Now not to be rude, but… go home.”  
“Not happening.” Karl glanced at him sideways…he seemed… more than tired. “You know there is someone watching your house right now?”  
“Yeah I know.”  
“You have a weapon? This could get ugly.”  
“Not a big fan of guns.” The look was rueful and slightly sharp as he sank into the couch. “Bobby…” he called “come in here.”   
“What’s wrong, Ph̀x?” the small boy appeared.  
“Remember the ladder in your room?” the boy nodded. “I want you to go upstairs and get it ready to use… don’t use it yet… but I want you to stay in your room and if you hear anything… scary or disturbing… you lock your bedroom door and go down the ladder. Run to Mrs. Faueng Fung and call the police… got it?”  
“Yes Ph̀x” the child sounded suddenly terrified. “He’s coming isn’t he?”  
“I think so.” Mike hugged the little boy close “It will be ok, Nate, I promise” Karl tried not to notice the slip on the name.  
“What about you?” he pulled away from his father “he’ll hurt you again.”  
“That is why you’re going to call the police… alright?” the kid nodded and smiled tentatively.  
“Alright.” He whispered and Karl got the impression he didn’t quite believe it would be that easy, but he disappeared upstairs anyway. Mike watched him go until he was out of sight as though he was afraid it would be the last time he saw the little boy. Then his eyes rested on Karl   
“I suppose I can’t talk you into leaving.”  
“Like I said your friend told me to take care of you.” he shrugged “besides you’re my friend…. Dan”   
“Sorry about the deception.” Karl didn’t think he sounded terribly sorry  
“It’s ok… I understand.” He studied those blue eyes “WITSEC?” the other man didn’t answer, but his eyes said plenty. An awkward silence fell between them for a long moment… “Have you called…?  
“They are investigating…” he stood on shaky legs, leaning heavily on the crutches… “Coffee?”  
“Sure.” The silence was back as the young man shuffled into the kitchen. Karl followed him when he realized it would be difficult for his friend to carry the cups…   
Time slipped past with an uncertain air… minutes turning to hours as the two men waited… the pounding on the door caused them to jump slightly. A moment of silence fell as they exchanged looks…  
“U.S. Marshal’s!” a voice called through the door. Mike rolled his eyes at the loud announcement as he struggled to stand. Karl waved him back down and drawing his weapon he moved to the door.  
“FBI” he said quietly though the door… the last thing they needed was a misunderstanding.  
“Understood” the voice responded in a more appropriate decibel. “Open up” Karl did… gun still at the ready in his hand. The Marshal was young… inexperienced obviously. He glanced around the room, slightly nervous.  
“Marshal McFerrin… I’m here to get the details of your concerns…”the young man addressed Mike, then he looked around “Is the boy here?”  
“Upstairs” Mike nodded toward the banister.   
“I see…” he looked pointedly at Karl “You called the FBI as well.”  
“Karl is a friend… he was just about to leave…” Karl opened his mouth to protest  
The door practically flew off its hinges with the power of the blow, bursting inward with the force of an explosion. Two weapons swung up to meet the three armed men that rushed into the room. A gunshot echoed violently through the room.


	26. Eruption

The young Marshal collapsed onto the couch with all the grace of a broken puppet, limbs flopping uselessly around his body, blood pulsing from his abdomen. His breath shuddered in shallow gasps and his startled eyes turned to Neal… shooting him a look of panic before they fell closed. The three weapons swung to Karl.  
“STOP!” Neal practically screamed, pulling four pairs of eyes to his face and three guns in his direction. “Put it away” he begged his friend. “It will be ok.” His eyes darted to the young man bleeding on the couch.  
“I would listen to him.” Richards snarled. “Nick here isn’t worth it. He knows he deserves what’s coming.”  
“Just let him go. He’s not part of this.” He kept his tone even. If Richards knew how badly he wanted Karl to live he would kill him instantly. Neal swallowed his fear and forced himself to breathe, glancing again at the injured marshal… still breathing, but he looked terrible. Too much blood was spilling into the couch, leaving the kid sickeningly pale and far to still. His arms folded around him… one hand resting in his lap, the other drooping over the arm of the sofa, his head resting at an awkward angle against his shoulder. Neal swallowed again, the young man needed help… right now. With a tremendous effort he pushed himself to his feet and faced Richards. “You have me. I’ll go with you quietly.”  
“Check upstairs” Richards ordered one of the enormous men with him. “Suddenly you’re a hero, Nick? I don’t think so…” he shook his head “you killed my daughter, you are a monster not a hero.” Neal heard Karl’s shocked gasp. There went another friend. Karl would never forget those words, but he would get him out of here alive. He drew himself up as straight as he could manage… his legs trembling harshly.  
“Whatever I am, I’m offering to let you do what you want to me without a fight…” he shook his head as he met that frigid gaze “Johnny, I know you don’t want to keep killing innocent people… these men… they had nothing to do with what happened to Megan. Agent Thompson had nothing to do with it either. You can kill me, maybe I even deserve it, but please just leave these men alone.” For one moment he thought he might have gotten through to the man Richards used to be, for one moment he thought Karl was out of danger.  
Then the .38 in Johnny Richards’ hand came up too fast and Neal had no time to make the choice… it was blind terror that caused his already aching left leg to give out… that caused him to stumble against the agent beside him knocking them both off balance as the weapon barked a second time that night.  
********************   
Nathen heard the hard knock on the front door. He silently crept to the top of the stairs… he needed to know what was happening. The marshal’s voice carried up to him clearly and the boy breathed a sigh of relief. Then a deafening crash echoed below, followed suddenly by the crack of a gunshot. He back pedaled quickly away from the stairs. He didn’t see the hallway he fled down, finding himself once again in a dirty New York alley, held by rough hands slamming him against the brick wall harshly… the shots whining around him as he dropped bonelessly to the ground and prayed they didn’t hit him. The agent falling… the blood, so much blood. All over the motionless figure on the ground, flowing from his chest and dribbling from his mouth smeared into his vacant eyes… on the two women trying to force life into the limp body… on the arm and hand of the strong, gentle man who bent over him… assuring him that it was ok… that he was ok, lifting him to his feet, promising they were gone… that they weren’t going to hurt him…  
Slamming into his bedroom door snapped the boy back to the present. Richards was back. He wasn’t safe. He banged the door closed behind him, remembering his Ph̀x’s instructions he hastily locked the door, secured the emergency ladder and tossed it from the window. Then he hesitated. Ph̀x was in trouble. Richards would kill him and he wouldn’t do it quickly either. The memory the broken man in the hospital bed, so still and covered with bruises like he had never seen, tubes in his mouth and nose… in his arms and chest too, floated through his mind… could he really leave him and let that happen again. Ph̀x might not survive this time “That’s why you are going to call the police” the memory of his father’s voice drove him suddenly forward. Go down the ladder, run next door, call the police… it was simple. He could do it. With that the small boy swung his legs over the window sill and pausing only long enough to close the window, he scrambled down the swaying rope ladder.   
It only took a brief moment to scale the wooden fence into Mrs. Faueng Fung’s yard. He sprinted to her back door and pounded on the glass frantically. Seconds passed. He pounded again… time stretched to eternity… he struck the glass until it rattled in its frame. Still no one came. Nathen’s blood froze even as he heart pounded heavily… he gasped, struggling not to panic, not to sink to the patio and sob. Turning away from his friend’s door he climbed her fence into the next yard... slamming his aching fist into that door. No one answered there either, except the huge dog that lunged at him, barking ferociously, from the shadows under an oleander bush. With a childish squeal he ran desperately and threw his small body over the chain link fence into the concrete drive way… he landed hard, the scorching cement tearing the skin of his hands and knees.   
Choking on a sob the child ran to the street. Someone would help him… he just had to find someone, but the busy neighborhood seemed abruptly devoid of life. “Please, please, please!” he cried internally. Exhausted, Nathen sank to the sidewalk in the shadow of a bush, wrapping his arms around his knees… shivering despite temperatures that still lingered in the high nineties. He sniffled softly… his hands and knees burned, his heart still pounded his ribs like a crazed jack hammer and his breath came in terrified sobs… He wasn’t giving up… he wasn’t!  
A car turned onto the dark street, moving slowly, as though looking for a house number… Nathen unfolded himself and ran forward, waving frantically. Relief flooded his reeling mind as the car slowed to a stop. He couldn’t believe it… it couldn’t be, but he recognized the two men that tumbled hurriedly from the car. The little boy grinned… everything was going to be alright.   
Agent Peter had his hand on Nate’s shoulder relief and concern mixing in his eyes. Agent Jones grinned a little grin at him. It was ok now… they were safe.   
The crack of another gunshot shattered the illusion in a heartbeat.  
“Ph̀x” the boy whimpered.  
***********************   
Peter tapped the steering wheel impatiently. The drive from the airport was incessantly long. Apparently, Peter thought, as a police car zipped past him impatiently, the speed limit was only a suggestion out here… the Arizona drivers must have driven Neal crazy. Jones sat stiffly in the passenger seat, hand gripping the door, but he didn’t comment on Peter’s driving or that of the rest of the speeding traffic.  
The dessert sun sank into the rugged mountains behind them with a flare of brilliant colors before the GPS directed him to exit the busy, fast moving highway. Five turns later he found himself on a dark quiet street in a sleepy neighborhood. He peered through the dark straining to see the house numbers as he passed.  
“WATCH OUT!” Jones cried. Peter jammed the brakes sharply, noting suddenly the small figure that darted from the shadows into the street waving desperately. With a cold start he recognized the boy. He scrambled out of the car to meet the disheveled child. Nate was trembling, his hair askew, blue eyes red with tears and wide with relief. The boy smiled at him, a crooked frightened smile. Peter rested his hand on the slim shoulder, squeezing gently and giving him a reassuring smile. The kid looked ready to bury himself in Peter’s legs…   
The gunshot made them all jump.  
“Ph̀x…” the boy whimpered, his eyes turning to the lighted house just up the quiet street. Peter flinched as he saw light streaming from a door hanging brokenly from its hinges. Jones’ voice carried through the night as he called the local police.  
“Stay in the car” Peter directed the sobbing child. He received a tiny nod in response. He took it as agreement, though the kid is a Caffrey, he thought ruefully, maybe I should get the promise in writing…  
Drawing his weapon he moved toward the house, feeling Jones fall in behind him. His steps sped up until he was running by the time he reached the door. The scene inside made his stomach clench painfully.  
***********************  
For Karl Young the world seemed to slide into slow motion. The gun came up, as the face behind it twisted with dark rage. There was not time to move, to even think, yet he could see each detail as the horrible moment played out, the tiny spurt of flame from the weapon, the look in Mike’s eyes as the young man stumbled against him. Suddenly the sound filled the room as they fell together, the world twisting into a kaleidoscope until he found himself on the floor looking up at the high ceiling. Mike… Dan… Nick… whoever the man was sprawled across him, and Karl felt something warm and wet seeping through the fabric of his shirt… he swallowed coarsely. Other than the soft throb of his elbow and hip where they struck the tile floor he didn’t think he was hurt, which meant… he turned his eyes to the face that rested on his shoulder. The blue eyes just inches from his met his gaze.   
“Don’t move…play dead.” The young man mouthed desperately before rough hands jerked him away. Karl almost protested, but the plan was sound. McFerrin needed help immediately… Karl needed back up, this was the only way they would get help. He allowed to his eyes to mostly close. The slim crack of vision he allowed himself was obscured by the mountain of a man who bent over him suddenly. Karl forced himself to stay still and loose as a huge hand shoved his shoulder roughly… letting his head roll back and forth in an easy pivot with the harsh shaking.  
“Still breathing.” The man said gruffly “but he’s down for the count. Even if he does manage to drag himself to a phone and get help we’ll be long gone.” The man lumbered to his feet and out Karl’s line of sight letting him catch a glimpse of his friend, fallen onto the couch beside the injured young marshal like his legs had simply given out. Other than the blood running down his left arm and dripping from his hand onto his knee he didn’t appear to be seriously injured... Karl suppressed a smile when he noticed the young man furtively checking McFerrin’s pulse.   
“Nothing upstairs, Boss” the second enormous man descended back into the room. “There was a kid’s room up there, but the kid wasn’t in it.” Karl heard the man in charge growl in frustration before he jerked Mike violently back to his feet.  
“Where is he?”   
“Safe” Mike grinned despite the flicker of fear and pain Karl saw in his eyes. A hard shove sent Mike back to the couch  
“We’ll find him, you know.” He snarled “then he will suffer … just like my little girl suffered.”   
“Johnny…” Mike began… stopped… then began again “Johnny… if I had known she would get sick... I would have left you out of that scam. If I had known you were using company money… client’s money... I would have left you out-.” His voice cut off abruptly as Johnny landed a hard right in his midsection driving his breath away.  
“Bring him!” Johnny snapped and one of the men moved forward to sling Mike over his shoulder.  
The room erupted with sudden sound and movement.  
“FREEZE FBI!” a voice commanded loudly “PUT HIM DOWN!”  
Karl rolled to the side grabbing his own discarded weapon and continued the motion up to his knees as the thug dropped Mike as unceremoniously as a sack of potatoes to the floor beside him. Karl watched the men glance between him and the new arrivals… Three weapons clattered quietly to the floor as the criminals reached the conclusion there was no escape. He drew a relieved breath before he crawled to his friend’s side. Whoever Mike really was he had been a good friend tonight.  
“Neal!” one of the men in the door way called out, worry coloring a vaguely familiar voice. Karl mentally added another name for the man who moaned softly as he pushed himself over to his back gingerly… “Don’t move” the man said as he dropped beside them. Mike didn’t listen, continuing to elbow himself upright.   
“Being dropped from six feet up…” Mike grinned, though his breath seemed a bit ragged “not fun at all…I do not recommend it.” He rubbed his shoulder… his head. The older man chuckled, his brown eyes still concerned. His look fell on the younger man’s bleeding arm.  
“What’s your position on getting shot?” his tone was strangely light, Karl thought, given the situation, but Mike laughed quietly as he moved his hand to clutch the wound on his upper arm, just below the shoulder.  
“Not any better, definitely unpleasant.” The young man muttered as he studied his ruined shirt. “I’m ok...it’s pretty much stopped bleeding” his eyes darted to the couch and the silent, still man slumped there. His expression turned instantly grave “McFerrin?” The older man gave his shoulder a brief pat of reassurance as he turned his eyes to the man who was cuffing a still muttering Richards with a look of suppressed fury.  
“Jones…?” he looked up with a nod and a final cinch of the cuffs, he moved to the motionless form sprawled on the couch.  
“Still alive… but he’s not doing well boss... paramedics should be on their way though.”  
“What about Nate?” fear lurked in the blue eyes as he asked?  
“Waiting in the car… at least…” Burke smiled “he’s supposed to be… though he is your son.” The younger man smiled at the barb.  
“Yes he is” he said proudly as he caught sight of the small boy lingering behind the broken door frame. “Yes he is.” He sighed quietly, a troubled look rising in his eyes.


	27. what's in a name

The list was not a long one. Four agents from the New York office had been involved with the transfer of Miss Clayton. Those four had access to the file Phoenix sent with her. Diana smiled darkly. She and Jennifer Williams had already interviewed three of them, so far none of them looked glaringly guilty, but there was still one more agent to talk to. The kid looked even younger than twenty-six with his brown hair falling into his eyes and an air of uncertainty rolling off of him as he took the seat across the table from her. He couldn’t meet her eyes, bringing his gaze up to her chin then dropping it back to the table. Diana sighed… glanced at Jennifer… they both saw it… Guilt.  
“Agent Mills,” She began “did you accept money from Johnny Richards in exchange for information regarding the whereabouts of a protected witness?”  
“Money…” his eyes darted frantically… a trapped and frightened animal. “For where to find him. No. There was no money for …” he trailed off. The kid finally met her composed stare. The desperation in those eyes almost made her feel for him. Then she glanced at Jennifer again and thought about Lenny Thompson’s funeral and his fatherless little boy and her resolve hardened.  
“No money? Then why? Did he pressure you for the information…intimidate you?” the boy nodded and paled noticeably. Diana pushed her advantage. “Did he also force you to help him kidnap a little boy, violently assault Caffrey and murder Agent Thompson.” Mills swallowed harshly.   
“He offered money at first, said he just wanted some information on an old friend… my mom has a lot of debt… she was drowning. He offered fifty grand if I would just help him find out what happened to his friend Nick Halden… then he took the boy and… I told him I couldn’t be part of that and he said things… terrible things would happen to me… to my mom if I backed out before he got his revenge.” The words tumbled out in a flurry driven on a tide of fear. “He said all I had to do was call him if you got to close… or if there was any information he should know.”  
“So you’ve been all buddy, buddy with Valdez the last few months just to stay up to date on new developments.” Jennifer broke in, fury radiating off of her.  
“Partially” the kid looked at his hands quietly “it also helped that she didn’t like Caffrey… I didn’t feel as guilty around her as I did around you.”  
“Why didn’t you report all of this months ago, Mills?”   
“I was scared and the situation kept getting worse.”  
Diana tried to squelch the urge to break his arm, then she didn’t have to. She was too busy trying to keep Jennifer Williams’ hands away from the young man’s throat.  
**********************   
He eyed the wound on his friend’s arm nervously… Neal had refused to let anyone look at it yet, not even the harried EMT who took a moment to step away from the flurry of activity around Marshal McFerrin to ask if Neal was ok… Neal practically shoved the man back into the effort to save the badly injured young man. Agent Young tried next, only to be rebuffed by an “I’m fine” and a pointed look in the direction of the gurney being lifted from the floor. A local officer had suggested another ambulance… Neal shook his head quietly, pulling Nathen into the crook of his right arm, murmuring reassuring words to him softly.  
Enough was enough Peter decided as he watched his friend sitting stiffly in the arm chair, discreetly wiping his hand on his pants to hide the fact that blood was still trickling off his fingers.  
“Neal?” he began “You sure you’re alright.”  
“Fine.” His grin was as phony as a Cracker Jack ring.  
“You don’t look fine.”  
“It’s just been a rough night” Neal conceded softly. Peter laughed briefly at the understatement.  
“I’ll say.” He regarded the younger man sharply. He was pale and still seemed a little out of breath. Not that Peter entirely blamed him… he still felt like he was trying to catch his own breath after the adrenalin rush earlier, and he hadn’t been held hostage or slung over a man mountain’s shoulder…or shot. “How’s the arm?”  
“Not going to fall off.” Neal sighed “Did they give you a prognosis on McFerrin?”  
“EMTs wouldn’t say…he looked pretty bad, but he was still breathing when they took him. That’s a good sign. Let me see the arm, Neal”   
“Nate is really shaken up.” Deep concern filled the words, blue eyes traveling to the stairs the little boy just vanished up, but it was still a redirect.  
“It’s a lot for a little kid to process… but if he’s anything like you, he’ll be ok. Now stop stalling. Let. Me. See. Your. Arm.”  
“Peter I’m-.”  
“Fine? Probably, but someone is going to have to look at it eventually, might as well be now. You know as well as I do at the very least it’s going to need stitches.” He nodded to the fresh blood on Neal’s hand  
“Probably.” Neal’s stiff posture deflated a little as he agreed. “You can look…”   
“Thank you. You want to pull off the shirt or should I just tear the sleeve.” The shoulder under his hand pulled up in a tiny shrug.  
“It’s probably beyond saving…” Neal’s eyes scrutinized the shirt ruefully. “It’s a shame… it was a nice shirt.” Another small shrug, but he flinched slightly when Peter ripped the fabric. Neal was silent while the older man gently probed the wound, though he winced and sucked in a ragged breath. “So what’s the verdict… is the arm salvageable?” Peter smiled at him, but concern was growing in him. He carefully turned the arm, his brows drawing together tightly.  
“Yeah but…” he met his friend’s eyes “you know a trip to the ER is in your immediate future, right?  
“So you’re a fortune teller now?” He grinned wanly at his friend, but it faded when he met Peter’s serious gaze.  
“No… but there is no exit wound, which means the bullet is still somewhere in your muscle…” he turned the arm gently back to its natural position “I’m not an expert but I don’t think it hit the bone and it’s not bleeding to badly, but…I’d rather a professional confirm that.”  
“No ambulance… I don’t want Nate to see that. He’s scared enough as it is.” He looked at his friend strangely when Peter chuckled softly and shook his head. “What?”  
“Never pictured you as such a protective father.”  
“Circumstances have a way of surprising us.”  
Peter nodded in agreement. He had plenty of experience with that.  
“Ok no ambulance… I’ll drive you.” Neal sighed but he didn’t argue. Peter assumed that was improvement. “Can you stand…” he hesitated “Last time I saw you…”  
“I can but I need…” he gestured vaguely at the crutches fallen out of reach on the floor.  
“That’s going to be complicated, considering” he looked pointedly at the injured arm.  
“So is not getting blood on your rental car.”  
“Do you have a car?  
******************************   
“Ok, Wendy, sweet heart I’ll be home in a couple of hours.” Karl assured his wife gently. “I’m with a friend. He was in danger… as soon as I’m sure he’s ok, I’ll be home and I promise I’ll tell you all about the secrets I’ve been keeping, tomorrow. I love you…”with a sigh he disconnected as he parked the car outside Dessert Samaritan hospital. At least she was still talking to him… though he knew she suspected him of cheating on her… who wouldn’t with the sudden increase in late nights and odd hours. He stepped out of the vehicle and moved to help the two men moving slowly toward the ER door.   
“How you holding up?” he heard the older man ask. The younger man shot him a resigned glare.  
“I’ll live” he ground through clenched teeth. After a moment he continued “ankle hurts more than…” Burke chuckled and Karl found himself grinning despite his concern.  
“Wait until tomorrow.”  
“I remember…” his lips twitched up slightly.   
Karl waited while they checked in at the desk, the waiting room was swamped, he noticed, but he was still surprised when Mike… or whoever he really was, sank into a chair a few seats away and wearily leaned his head against the wall to wait. He raised his eyebrow questioningly at the older agent.   
“They usually take a GSW in right away.”  
“He’s on his feet… guess they figure he’s ok.” He sighed then and glanced at his friend, worry etched in every line of his face. “But they don’t know how much tougher he is than he looks.”  
“He’s impressive I’ll give him that.” Karl watched the young man shift in the hard plastic seat trying to get comfortable. “I’m pretty sure I would be a lot less calm if it were me over there.”  
“Looking calm in every possible situation is Neal’s specialty.”  
“So that’s his real name?”  
“It is.” Burke looked him over… sizing him up.  
“Mike Hamilton came from the Marshals, I suppose, but the rest…” Karl shrugged letting his bewilderment show “I suspected he was an FBI agent… he knows so much about our procedures… but he’s not, is he?”   
“No… but he’s my CI… he’s the best there is at what he does.” Karl was surprised to realize he felt betrayed by Burke’s revelation   
“And what he does is…?” Karl watched Burke’s face as he sighed and rubbed his forehead  
“It’s a long list.”  
“You know I’m right here, right?” Blue eyes turned back to them with a tired, but amused smile.  
“We haven’t forgotten” Burke assured him with a slightly stiff grin “I noticed the woman in the corner sizing you up.”  
“Well when you’ve got it, you’ve got it.” He sounded more drained than cocky. but it made the older man’s eyes soften affectionately.  
“What is it with you and women?” Neal didn’t answer just tapped his head knowingly before turning his face away again.  
“So he’s a criminal?” Karl kept his voice low this time, but he couldn’t keep the edge out of his tone.  
“Convicted of bond forgery six years ago.” Burke answered calmly, matter-of-factly.  
“I see” Karl stared at the young man across the aisle. His thoughts swirled violently. The thought that he had blindly trusted a criminal with countless case files over the last four months made him vaguely sick. He had opened his career up to a man with no idea who he was. A hundred possibilities floated through his mind… none of them pleasant. He felt Burke’s stare before he turned to meet his gaze.   
“Young…I know what you’re thinking. I went through the same thoughts before I made the deal with him. Did he ever actually tell you he used to be an FBI agent?”  
“No… he just… didn’t strike me as a literature teacher. And he knew so much about procedure and undercover work and stakeouts…”  
“And now you feel like he deceived you…because he’s one of the bad guys?”  
“Yes… and I know I’m the one who assumed, but that doesn’t change what he is… and that I trusted him with my cases.”  
“If it helps he is not one of the bad guys… not really. Will he ever be an honest citizen…? Who knows, but he is loyal to the people he cares about. The kind of loyalty that steps between a friend and a gun without a thought.” Karl thought about that… earlier he thought Neal’s stumble that knocked him over had been pure accident, but what if… he felt the hand on his shoulder when they went down… Neal’s left arm across his chest as they fell…which meant that bullet would have…Karl gulped convulsively, the train of thought left his mind even more twisted and confused. It took a few moments to collect himself enough to speak.   
“That man tonight… Richards, he said somethings…” he needed a change of subject… needed to get the full picture of the man not an emotional reaction…  
“Accused Neal of killing his daughter?”  
“Yeah.”  
“He didn’t. Meagan Richards died of mesothelioma… because her father exposed her to asbestos… he was looking for a scape goat.”  
“He didn’t deny it.” To Karl’s surprise Burke swore sharply, surging upward in his seat. “What does that mean?”  
“It means… D*** it! It means she got to him before he left. I’m going to ...” Burke turned to stare at the young man who appeared to be dozing restlessly now. “He had nothing to do with that girl dying, but Richards killed a young agent in New York… the kid’s superior was determined that Neal was responsible somehow. She wanted to start throwing accusations at him while he was still…”Burkes shuddered faintly at the memory. With that he rose swiftly and moved to sit beside the young man, shaking his arm gently to rouse him. Karl watched Burke clap a reassuring hand on Neal’s shoulder, offering words of consolation that didn’t carry to the younger agent. The hushed conversation was interrupted by a nurse calling Neal’s name. Despite his confusion Karl itched to help the man as he struggled to rise. Before he could move the older agent wrapped his arm around his friend and helped him up. Karl noticed Burkes’ arm tighten instinctively just before Neal’s left leg tried to buckle. He sighed and sat back to wait for them.  
************************   
He sighed and lay back on the exam table tucking his good arm behind his head, closing his eyes again… it might still be a while before the doctor got to him and this day was starting to wear on him.  
“Hey” Peter’s voice broke through his thoughts “you still doing ok?”  
“Yeah, fine” he shifted slightly to look at his friend, he hated to admit how much he missed that worried glare. “A little tired” he conceded.  
“Not sure that’s really a good sign.”   
“It’s been a really long day that started before four am… I think it’s normal.”  
“Neal.” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice.   
“I’m ok.”  
“They are going to put you under… you know that right?”  
“I’m looking forward to it. Being awake while someone digs around inside your skin for a tiny piece of metal… not fun. Not a trick I care to repeat.” He shifted and closed his eyes again.  
“Can’t say I blame you for that.” Peter’s attempt not to laugh filled his voice. “But that wasn’t my point.” His tone turned serious. “Last time… when Richards… there was quite a bit of organ damage… the doctor here should know about that before they give you anything.” Without looking he felt the brown eyes watching him protectively. The curtain shifting forced him to open his eyes.  
“Hello Mr. Caffrey” Dark eyes sparkled at him “how are you doing…? I’m Valerie. I’m just going to do a quick preliminary exam, then the doctor should be right in. Can you sit up for me?” Neal complied with a smile for the young woman… though he was surprised when the room wavered momentarily. His friend’s eyes bored into him and he didn’t doubt Peter saw the moment of dizziness. The girl chatted lightly as she wrapped the cuff around his right arm and clipped the oxygen monitor on his finger. “I need you to sit still while they get a reading” she gave his swinging leg a pointed look, then gestured playfully with the thermometer. “Temperature too…So Mr. Caffrey how does a man like you get clipped by a bullet. You don’t come across as the gun type.”  
“It’s Neal… and I am definitely not, but some people don’t seem to get that message.” He grinned  
“A trouble magnet, huh?” she frowned slightly when she listened to his lungs  
“Problem?” Peter broke in  
“Not a major one.” The girl regarded Neal a moment, he gave her a questioning look “I’m not hearing as much air moving in your lungs as I’d expect. I’m sure it’s nothing. Can you take some deep breaths for me, please?” He obeyed and her frown deepened momentarily. The blood pressure machine beeped it was finished and she glanced at the readings… looked again and made a quick note. “May I see your arm?” Her tone stayed polite and calm, but something had shifted in her demeanor… both men could see it.   
“Sure.” Neal agreed. She quickly cut away the first aid kit bandage. Then she gave him a strange look.   
“The file said it was a graze…” she looked at him sharply “that is not a graze.” Peter glared at him.  
“What? I didn’t tell them that. You were with me when we talked to the front desk… in fact you did most of the talking.” Valerie quickly rewrapped the arm with a shake of her head.  
“I’ll be right back” she disappeared quickly  
“Well that was vaguely disturbing.” Neal commented wryly.  
“You’re very funny.” Peter was still watching him closely “but the professional is concerned which means… I am too.”  
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”  
“Neal…” at that moment Valerie returned with kind faced balding doctor in tow. After a brief greeting he examined him again.  
“Is there a reason, Mr. Caffrey that your lungs wouldn’t be filling normally?”  
“Well…”  
“Seven months ago his lungs were punctured in three places and seriously bruised… seven ribs were broken… twelve fractures in all” Peter broke in.  
“I see.” The doctor hesitated “that information changes your situation slightly… makes you a… higher risk patient. I’m going to ask you to lay back… and Valerie is going to start you on some oxygen for a few minutes. We need to get some x-rays, but I’d like to get your saturation levels up a bit and your pulse down a little before we proceed. We are also going to start monitoring your condition carefully… I’m sure everything will be fine, so try to relax.”  
This time Neal did comment on his friend’s worried look… he offered an apologetic shrug before he lay down.


	28. Coming home

“You don’t have to hover Dr. Wilcox said I would be fine” Neal rolled his eyes at his friend. The doctor had said he would recover from the wound without any trouble… Peter didn’t need to know about the tests… at least not until the results were back. “I’ll be out of here in two days and then…” he grinned “I can come home, right?”  
“You don’t like Arizona? I’m stunned.” Peter looked anything, but surprised.  
“I like Arizona just fine. The sunsets are really something special and the dust storms are… incredible… beautiful and wild and… violent … I keep trying to paint them but…”he shrugged “I like it ok to visit, but six months is long enough.”  
“Getting thrown around and shot probably soured you on the place a little too.”  
“If that were true I would never set foot in New York again.” The guilt that flashed in brown eyes made Neal regret his words “but I’m ready to go back… more than ready. And I know Nate misses his friends. How are his parents holding up?”   
“As well as you would expect… they may be released within three months. Neither one is inclined to be a troublemaker as I understand.”  
“You’ve been keeping an eye on them?” Neal smiled brightly “Peter, I do believe you are getting soft.” He tried not to think about how hard it was going to be to give his son back when the time came. He tried not to be jealous that Nate would go back to the Bryant’s who he adored and maybe never see or think of his Ph̀x again. He knew from the beginning this situation was temporary… that he was in essence a foster parent, but he couldn’t help loving the boy. If circumstances had been different…he pushed away the heart ache rising in his chest to listen to his friend.   
“Yeah well… this whole situation really hasn’t been fair, for any of you.”  
“Maybe for me…”  
“Definitely not for you.” The older man shot him a horrified look “You were almost killed! Twice.”  
“Maybe I deserved it… Peter, I know you, you know about Johnny’s daughter. You don’t have to hide it from me.”  
“I do know.” Peter took a deep breath “I don’t know what Valdez said to you… accused you of, but you need to know you had nothing to do with that girl’s death.”  
“Peter… I got her dad fired… they lost their insurance… if she had been treated sooner…”  
“She would have still died.”  
“What?”  
“I spoke with her doctor… Williams spoke with her doctor and he told both of us the same thing. Even if she had been diagnosed and in treatment within twenty four hours of becoming noticeably sick… she would have still died.”  
“Really?”  
“Really. They might have been able to buy her a few weeks, but the form of Mesothelioma she had was extremely aggressive.”  
“Mesothelioma? That’s caused by asbestos exposure… how would, a kid like that be exposed to…”  
“The carpet factory… her father brought her there. Neal he used you as a scapegoat so he didn’t have to face his own guilt. That is all there is to the story. None of it was your fault. None of it. No matter what Valdez told you.” Peter hesitated   
“Then if you weren’t… if you knew I wasn’t to blame why did you force me to go with the Marshals? You know how much confidence I have in them.”  
“I do.” Peter sighed again “there was a mole inside White Collar. Someone called Richards while he was… beating you, to warn him we were coming. I had no idea who it was and that meant that I couldn’t trust anyone at the office to protect you and Valdez had her own guilt crazed vendetta against you. So her team was out.” He shrugged “I knew you wouldn’t like it, but keeping you safe was more important than making you happy.”  
“And that worked out so well” he was aiming for a teasing note, but it came out almost angry.  
“I didn’t have many options, Neal.” Again he hesitated “I’m sorry. I really am but…”  
“You would do it again.”  
“I would.” Peter straightened his shoulders resolutely “to keep you in one piece I would do it again.” Neal didn’t respond for a long moment.  
“Did you find the leak?” he finally asked.  
*************************   
He was nervous, Karl was willing to admit that. It was obvious that Wendy wasn’t entirely convinced that all his sneaking out had been to see a criminal who was willingly helping him solve cases. She had insisted on meeting Neal. Karl wasn’t sure that was a great idea, wasn’t sure he wanted to look the man in the eye. He couldn’t shake the feeling he had been deceived and that made him feel guilty, after all the man had probably saved his life… whether intentionally or not. Facing Neal this morning wasn’t high on things he wanted to do… he would have much rather given the situation a few days to calm down, but Wendy requested an introduction and he wanted her to smile at him that way she used to, more than he wanted to hide. Burke met them coming in. He greeted Karl with a smile despite his long night.  
“Is he up to visitors…? Wendy wants to meet him.”  
“Please.” Burke almost chuckled “he’s bored… maybe company will help.”  
“Yeah.” Karl paused “are you sure he’ll want to see me? I know he overheard some things last night…” the older man shook his head with a little smile   
“Neal likes you. Like I told you last night... He’s a good friend. When he decided to help you with Alicia Clayton he put his life in your hands… that is a huge thing for Neal. Trust isn’t something he does lightly.”  
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”  
“It isn’t intended to.” Burke straightened his shoulders “it’s meant to explain why he’ll be glad to see you. You are his friend. Period. Neal doesn’t throw away friends… much to my regret sometimes.” He smiled a little at the memories his words obviously triggered.   
“So this person does exist?” Wendy broke in. She kept her tone purposely light, but Karl could hear the anxious edge on it.  
“Yes, he does.” Burke’s lips fought the smile briefly “my wife used to call him the other woman… when I was chasing him.”  
“She did?” from the look on Wendy’s face Karl wasn’t sure this was helping his case.  
“Yep… now she reminds me to invite him to dinner at least once a week.”  
“I see.” Wendy still looked like she thought Burke was crazy, but at least her expression was softening a little.   
“Well I have to go” the older man “I need to make some calls, make arrangements for the trip home.” He turned to leave then stopped “Karl if you ever want a transfer to New York… my team could use an agent like you.”  
“Really?”  
“There aren’t many people Neal trusts… that’s pretty impressive.” With that he turned and quickly walked away. Karl wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and guided her toward the room at the end of the hall.   
Neal was out of bed, curled loosely in the seat by the window, a book propped against the arm of the chair. He wore his own pajamas and a silk robe. If not for the IV in his right arm it would have been easy to forget he was in a hospital room, definitely an improvement over last night. He looked up from his reading and shot a slightly lopsided grin at Karl. He offered a small wave.  
“I wondered if I’d see you before I left.” He lay the book aside “I take it this is your beautiful wife.”  
“Yes this is Wendy. Sweet heart this is M-Neal.”  
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to meet you.” She tried to smile.  
“Not the usual reaction I get when I meet a lady.” He laughed. Then he grew completely serious “Wendy trust me you have no reason to suspect Karl of anything inappropriate.” His directness startled Karl, but Neal wasn’t finished “he loves you… talks about you all the time. You are the center of his world.” His eyes grew sad… “Not everyone finds someone to love them that way… when you do you hang on to them with everything you have.”  
“Neal…?” Karl began. The other man seemed to notice their looks for the first time.  
“Sorry.” He laughed briefly and dropped his eyes. When he looked up his smile was perfectly in place “I’m sorry… the pain killers must be making me sentimental.”  
“It’s ok” Wendy surprised Karl by wiping at her eyes. “I think I needed to hear that. I know he loves me, but Karl sometimes forgets to tell me. It’s good to know he tells everyone else.”   
“I have a good friend who is the same way.” the young man sympathized. “His wife is his whole world, but…” Karl made a mental note to tell his wife more often how he felt about her. Maybe he would buy her roses on his way home tonight… take her to dinner somewhere nice. He smiled his gratitude at the other man.  
****************************   
Juggling crutches and his bandaged arm Neal tried to push away the words the doctor told him that morning. He needed to concentrate on getting one foot in front of the other… he was going home, back to his life. The test results didn’t matter, didn’t change anything. Dr. Wilcox said as much. Neal was going home, Richards was going to prison and Nate was safe… everything was as it should be. Except it really wasn’t. The conversation played through his mind on a constant loop.  
“So, will I live?” he as the doctor when he told him the tests were in.  
“For now? Yes.” Dr. Wilcox sat down in the chair beside his bed placing himself at eye level with his patient. “Your liver and kidneys are functioning at about 90% which is exceptional given the damage that was done to them just a few months ago… were you aware the doctors in New York remove nearly a third of your liver?” Neal vaguely remembered someone explaining that to him… along with the assurance that you could live with only fifty percent… “your heart and lungs are struggling a little bit right now due to recent blood loss…which while relatively minor put some strain on… shall we say already over taxed organs. Overall your systems are compensating quite well for the scaring and damage caused by the incident.”  
“That’s good news” Neal grinned easily but the doctor did not “Isn’t it?”  
“It is good news…” Wilcox looked at the young man “but compensating the way they are… puts serious stress on your organs… eventually they may… begin to deteriorate.”  
“What does that mean, exactly?”  
“If it happens… your systems will begin to shut down, organs will fail… in time… your body will be unable to function.”  
“I see.” He swallowed his fear “is there anything I can do… to prevent or delay it.”  
“My advice… “Dr. Wilcox stood up and regarded him gravely. “Live your life, see your doctor in New York regularly, and take decent care of yourself. Try not to worry about this too much… It could be forty years down the road before it becomes an issue.”  
“But you don’t think it will be?”  
“I honestly don’t know” the doctor smiled kindly “but I do know… whether you have one year or fifty you will never regret living your life fully.”  
*****************************  
Peter could literally see Neal trying not to think about something in the four weeks since they left Arizona. The younger man was distracted… his expression often sad. The agent was pretty sure he could guess what was haunting his friend. He frequently watched him with Nate. Neal and the boy had grown so attached, Peter knew, without a doubt, that giving the child back to his adoptive parents would devastate his friend… almost as much as losing Nate’s mother had.   
He found them as he often did in the park… the playground by the statue of the violinist. Peter chuckled as he caught his normally suave partner chasing the small boy over the equipment. The young man still moved painfully slow leaning heavily on the cane in his right hand, but he compensated in the game of tag by being sneaky. His face lit by laughter Neal looked younger as he allowed Nate to catch him and pull him down with a move that was half tackle, half hug.   
“Hey” he called noticing the older man and extraditing himself from the child, pushing himself to his feet gingerly.  
“Hello.” Peter chuckled “you look like you were having fun. I’m not sure if this means you are growing up or reverting farther.”  
“It’s what fathers are supposed to do, isn’t it?” Neal actually sounded uncertain. “I just want him to have some good memories of me before he goes home.” If his voice broke a bit on the last word they both ignored it, allowing a comfortable silence to fall between them.  
“You know, you could fight giving him back.” Peter finally said.  
“Peter…”  
“You actually have a very strong legal argument that their adoption was invalid.”  
“I couldn’t…”  
“She forged your signature on the documents… she never informed you about the adoption or for that matter about Nate…”  
“They love him, Peter. They are good people and they love him and he deserves to be loved by good people. Besides he loves them so much.”  
“He loves you too, and you love him.”  
“Because I love him I can’t deny him the family he’s known all his life… that would be selfish.”  
“Maybe it doesn’t have to be…” he smiled as he thought of the idea… it was perfect.  
“What are you thinking Peter?” Neal watched his expression… his eyes widening as he suddenly caught the older man’s plan.


	29. Up to something

Neal was sculpting on the balcony under the city lights, he didn’t turn at the approaching footsteps… he knew exactly who it was.  
“Is it finished Moz?”  
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”  
“I am.” He raised his head from his project. “Is it finished?”  
“It is.” He shifted his weight between his feet “I can file it tomorrow if you are still set on this insane idea.”  
“I’m not going to change my mind.” Neal smiled softly in the dark “This is my best plan ever.”  
The smaller man sighed and adjusted his glasses. He shook his head mournfully “Neal Caffrey PTA president…”  
“I never said anything about the PTA.”  
“But they will suck you in mon frère,” another earth shattering sigh escaped the older man “They will suck you in.  
“He’s my son, Mozzie.” Blue eyes pleaded for understanding “Is it so bad that I want to be a better father than…”  
“No, I suppose not.” He shook his head “I don’t suppose you could convince the boy to call me uncle Mozzie?” he managed a wan smile  
“We’ll see…”Neal shook his head with an affectionate grin. “Let’s find out if this works first.”  
“It will work.” The older man said confidently   
******************************   
He sat rigidly on the bench outside the courtroom staring at the door, waiting for it to open. Beside him Nate shifted impatiently and Neal suppressed the urge to squirm along with the boy. Just last month they sat outside a court much the same way waiting to testify against Johnny Richards. He wasn’t sure how much weight his own testimony carried, but he had seen the horror on the jury’s face’s when Nate identified Richards as the man who kidnapped and hit him… holding him for a week with no food and barely enough water. Neal had been forced to swallow a desire to strangle the man.   
“Ph̀x” the small voice wavered slightly pulling Neal from his silent contemplation of the court room door.   
“Yes, Nate?”  
“I’m going back to live with mama and dad today… right?” he took a breath and looked up at his father with bright blue eyes far too serious for his innocent young face. “Will I ever get to see you again?”  
“Do you want to?” He met the teary gaze of his son, his hands reaching out to straighten the kid’s tie automatically. Neal, Peter and Mozzie had set this plan in motion, but he realized with a sharp pang of guilt they had never consulted the little boy. Maybe Nate didn’t want a father that brought terrifying dangerous people into his world to be a part of his life. If he didn’t… Neal knew it would feel like having his heart ripped out if the child’s answer was no, but he would drop the plan here and now… it would hurt like no pain he had ever felt, but he would walk away from his son without looking back… Wouldn’t he? Neal wasn’t sure he was strong enough for that, but maybe he could tolerate only seeing the boy once or twice a year as provided by the open adoption. It wouldn’t be enough but….  
“I don’t want you to go away Ph̀x.” His small hand moved up to grip his father’s fingers on his tie. “Promise you’ll come see me sometimes at least.”  
“Of course I will.” Neal couldn’t contain the grin, his son wanted him. “I promise…maybe …” His voice trailed off he didn’t want Nate to worry, or get his hopes to high. “I’ll come see you as often as I can.” His son wanted him to be a part of his life… Neal would move heaven and earth if he could to be that part, no matter how big or how small. He would never abandon the boy not for any reason… well, his darker thoughts interjected, there might be one reason… “One year or fifty…” rattled suddenly through his mind. He shook his head, pushing the doctor’s words aside, but he couldn’t suppress a tiny shiver that ran up his spine. He gripped Nate’s hand “I will be there for you whenever you need me Nate as long as I’m breathing…” And even after that if I can be, he promised silently “I’ll be there.” The child smiled brightly.   
“You two ready?” Peter’s voice broke through his thoughts. With a nervous smile Neal pushed himself up from the bench and holding the little hand gently, he took a deep breath and faced the suddenly open door.  
*************************   
He watched his friend rise a bit stiffly when the judge entered the room. Peter felt the tension radiating off the younger man. The urge to present the case for him rose in the agent, but Neal had to do this himself. The gruff looking middle aged woman turned her gaze slowly from the Bryant’s to Neal and back again. Still without comment she looked back at the file in her hands and shook her head.   
“Mr. Caffrey I understand you have filed a petition for custody of the minor on the grounds that the adoption was not valid.”  
“Yes ma’am.”  
“May I ask what grounds you have for protesting am eight year old adoption?”  
“As you can see, your honor, it is there in the petition. I was never informed of Nathen’s birth. His birth certificate and the adoption records both contain my… a name I sometimes use-.”  
“An alias, you mean” the judge looked at his sternly. “I am aware of your criminal history Mr. Caffrey.” Peter flinched at the coldness in her tone, but true to form Neal just smiled at the woman.  
“Yes, your honor, an alias.” He straightened his shoulders and met her gaze “the alias I used when I first met Nate’s mother, but Kate was well aware of my real name before his birth. She chose to use my alias… for reasons unknown to me.” He swallowed hard “Whatever her reasons she forged my signature on the documents and declined to inform me of the existence of our son… even though she saw me weekly from about a month after his birth for nearly four years.”  
“I see.” The judge studied his face, clearly searching for signs of deception “How then did you discover the existence of the child?”  
“Mr. and Mrs. Bryant told me about him.”  
“Really?” her tone was doubtful… derisive   
“Yes ma’am.” Neal met her disbelief with surprising honesty “Since my release from prison I have worked for the FBI… Nathen had been kidnapped, they were desperate to get him back. They informed me about their adopted son in my role as a Bureau consultant.”  
“I see.”  
“Once Nate was rescued, due to circumstances they were unable to care for him for a while and they entrusted me with him for the last ten months.”  
“And you have decided to reward that trust by attempting to take him from them.” Her look was bitter and hard. Peter noticed the Bryant’s didn’t appear much friendlier.  
“Oh No, Your Honor!” Neal’s voice was tinged with horror “Nathen adores his parents and they without a doubt love him. I could never separate them. I couldn’t hurt my son or his parents that way!” Shock flashed across the judge’s face at this outburst.  
“Then what pray tell is the purpose of this petition Mr. Caffrey?” She asked after a moment of stunned silence.  
“Your honor” he began softly, but his eyes rested on the man and woman at the table across the aisle from him. “I am requesting the restoration of my parental rights and fifty percent custody.”  
“You want to split custody?”  
“Yes Ma’am.” Neal flicked his blue eyes back to the stern woman at the bench “I am willing to pay child support and Nathen’s tuition to Manhattan Prep.”  
“In exchange for partial custody.”  
“Yes, your honor.” He drew a deep breath “it may be selfish, but honestly Nate is an incredible child… and I just can’t let him go entirely… not without a fight.”  
“I see.” She looked Neal over again and Peter thought he caught a glint of something that looked a bit like respect there. “Mr. and Mrs. Bryant would you be willing to discuss a split custody arrangement?”  
***************************   
He poured himself into painting the room. June had been kind enough to let Nathen have the small bed room just down the hall from his own during the three months he lived with them. Repainting it gave his swirling mind something to focus on other than the future.  
His life had changed and it would never be the same. Of that Neal was certain. He thought of the doctor’s words often… his own physician had confirmed the diagnosis. It felt vaguely, he thought, like living with a time bomb inside his body… and he had no idea how much time was on the counter. That was a terrifying thought. He tried to push thoughts like that away whenever they reared up in his mind… an ominous cloud hanging over the horizon of his future. It was odd to find himself dwelling so much on his own mortality when he actually felt pretty good. Other than an occasional painful twinge in his hips and a deep throbbing ache in his left ankle when the weather changed he felt like he always had…young , alive and ready for anything, but that could all go away at his next doctor’s appointment. His pulled his mind back to the positives… after all no one really knew how much time they had left… maybe this was a gift of sorts… a constant reminder that each day he got was a gift.   
Neal considered who he should tell about the doctor’s concerns, but he kept coming back to the same conclusion…. There was no reason to worry the people he cared about with something that may never happen… he would tell them if it became an issue, until then he had bigger concerns, because everything was different now.  
He had to stay on the right side of the law… he couldn’t stray, no matter how much he was tempted, because running was no longer an option and prison would ruin everything. He wiped his hands… smiling at his work, the trim looked better with the paint color than he had hoped. Now he just needed to clean up and move everything back in. He wanted the room to be perfect for next week. That thought made his smile widen to a grin… Nathen was going to love this.  
The arrangement was of course complicated… what custody agreement wasn’t, Neal thought. Thirty-five percent custody was really better than he had dared hope for when they filed the petition. He got one week Monday through Sunday, then Ryan and Kim got two weeks. He didn’t even want to sort out the complicated details about holidays. None of that really mattered though, in light of the fact that Nathen was now a permanent part of his life. The idea that he was really a father sometimes almost overwhelmed him. Neal sighed at that thought even as his heart swelled. He couldn’t mess this up. He wouldn’t mess this up… the stakes were way too high. His phone buzzed in his pocket.  
“Hello?”  
“Ph̀x?”  
“Hey Nate.” He grinned “how are you?”  
“I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”  
“Me either … I have a surprise for you.”  
************************   
Watching his friend check his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes Peter felt an old unsettled feeling coil in his gut. Neal was acting like he was up to something. He had seen the signs before. Now though he didn’t want to believe it. The young man couldn’t blow it, not now. Peter had been proud of the kid the last few months, partial custody of his son seemed to trigger incredibly good behavior in Neal. He smiled at the thought… the younger man still blurred the lines a little to get the bad guy, but he had stuck diligently to the straight and narrow in his personal life… until today.  
“Hey Peter?” Neal suddenly asked looking up from the recovered sculpture he had been pretending to study. “Do you think I might be able to leave early today?”  
“Is it the real piece?” he gestured to the odd looking statue   
“Looks like it.”  
“Why do you need to leave?” the agent swept his own gaze over the sculpture “Are you sure?”  
“I’m reasonably sure… as sure as I can be just by looking.” Neal turned wide blue eyes on him, suddenly all innocence. “There’s a baseball game I want to go to…”  
Peter nearly choked on his laugh… disbelief in every line of his face “You want to cut out of work early to go to a baseball game?”  
“Yes I do.”  
“Why do I highly doubt that?” he sighed “What’s really going on Neal?”  
“I really want to go to a game…Peter you know I don’t make a habit of lying to you.”  
“Neal…” his voice picked up a warning edge.  
“What? Tell me if you had a kid with a piece in an art show you wouldn’t be there.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as he grinned.  
“This is about Nate?”  
“Ryan signed him up for little league… it’s his first game.” Neal’s smile brightened “I promised him I would be there.”  
“What time is the game?”  
“5:30”  
“It’s five o’clock now… you’re going to have to hurry to make it.”  
“I know… can I go?” his whole body practically twitched with anticipation.  
“How about I give you a ride?” Suddenly, to Peter, it all made perfect sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the end of It Makes Perfect Sense... I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to hear what you thought... good, bad or weird. thanks. Obviously I don't own them. Thanks to my editing co author Kitty...


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